A Thousand Clowns was an unlikely contender for Best Picture at the 1965 Oscars, yet there it was nominated over such stronger possibilities as A Patch of Blue, The Collector, and Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines, along with Darling, Doctor Zhivago, and Ship of Fools, all of which were destined to lose to the beloved box-office juggernaut that was The Sound of Music.

The quirky comedy written by Herb Gardner (I’m Not Rappaport) first appeared on Broadway in April 1962. It was nominated for Tonys for Best Play, Featured Actor (Barry Gordon), and Featured Actress (Sandy Dennis), winning for the latter. Dennis was unable to reprise her role in the film because she was then starring on Broadway in Any Wednesday, the 1966 film version of which she lost to Jane Fonda, but by that time she was filming Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? for which she would win the 1966 Oscar for Best Supporting Actress.

Dennis was replaced in the film version by Barbara Harris (Nashville) whose most famous Broadway role in 1965’s On a Clear Day You Can See Forever went to Barbra Streisand when it was filmed five years later. She would receive a Golden Globe Best Actress – Musical or Comedy nomination for A Thousand Clowns and an eventual Oscar nomination for 1971’s little seen Who Is Harry Kellerman and Why Is He Saying Those Terrible Things About Me?, also written by Gardner.

The star of A Thousand Clowns is Jason Robards who also received a Golden Globe nomination for reprising his Broadway role of the nonconformist writer who is trying to clean up his act to keep from losing guardianship of his precocious 12-year-old nephew, played by Tony nominee Gordon who is, as he was on stage, the most winning character in the film. Harris and William Daniels, another veteran of the stage production, are the investigators trying to determine Robards’ suitability, with Harris falling under Robards’ spell. Martin Balsam, replacing stage actor Larry Haines (The Odd Couple), somehow managed to win an Oscar for playing Robards’ more responsible older brother. Balsam had a meatier role that year as the ship’s doctor in The Bedford Incident, but Oscar voters for some reason liked him better in this.

The film, which director Fred Coe opened-up considerably by taking some of the play’s lengthy conversations outdoors, was a grand tour of New York City’s many landmarks. Unfortunately, this brought the film in at an un-releasable two hours and forty-five minutes. By creatively cutting many of those scenes and turning them into montages, Coe and his editor Ralph Rosenblum not only brought the film in at just under two hours, but created what seemed at the time to be a very “hip” film, reminiscent of the European New Wave.

A Thousand Clowns is one of two Coe comedies newly upgraded to Blu-ray by Kino Lorber. The other is 1969’s Me, Natalie. Both look better than they ever have.

Me, Natalie was designed as a showcase for Patty Duke, who won an Oscar for 1962’s The Miracle Worker, which had been produced, but not directed, by Coe.

Duke’s previous film had been 1967’s Valley of the Dolls in which her performance was so dreadful, it had critics suggesting she give back her Oscar. With Me, Natalie she regained her reputation and went on to a long, distinguished career, mostly in TV movies, for which she won three Emmys and six other nominations over the next three decades.

Duke is compelling as a young Jewish girl from Brooklyn who finds independence and romance with a married artist (James Farentino) in Manhattan. The supporting cast includes Nancy Marchand as her mother, and, in memorable bits, Martin Balsam as her favorite uncle, Elsa Lanchester as her landlady, and Al Pacino, in his film debut, as cad she meets at her first dance.

Surprisingly, Duke won the Golden Globe for Best Actress – Musical or Comedy over a field of eight that included Ingrid Bergman in Cactus Flower, Shirley MacLaine in Sweet Charity, Anna Magnani in The Secret of Santa Vittoria, and Barbra Streisand in Hello, Dolly! .

Also new to Blu-ray from Kino Lorber are a slew of British films including Pool of London and An Inspector Calls.

Basil Dearden’s 1951 film Pool of London is a remarkable film noir about a petty thief and his friend who become unwittingly involved in ahigh profile robbery and murder when their ship docks in postwar London. Bonar Celleano and Earl Cameron star, with Susan Shaw, Renée Asherson, and Moira Lister as the women in their lives. An on-camera interview with 102-year-old Cameron is provided as an extra.

Guy Hamilton’s 1954 film of J.B. Priestley’s frequently filmed An Inspector Calls is the definitive version of the play from the writer whoseLast Holiday and The Old Dark House have been also filmed more than once.

Alastair Sim, in his best-known role aside from the 1951 version of A Christmas Carol, has the title role of the police inspector who interrogates a well-to-do British family and the fiancé of the daughter about the death of a young woman who was in different ways connected to all of them. Although highly suspenseful, the film is really an indictment of the British class system with all the actors giving strong performances including future director Bryan Forbes (The Whisperers) as the son of the family and Jane Wenham as the dead girl. Wenham, best remembered as Albert Finney’s first wife who died in November 2018 at 90, provides an on-camera interview as extra.

Newer films recently released on Blu-ray and standard DVD include The Gentlemen and Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker.

The Gentlemen is a frantic action comedy from Guy Ritchie in the style of his early films. Matthew McConauhey, Charlie Hunnam, Hugh Grant, and Colin Farrell star. Personally, I prefer Ritchie’s less frantic films like last year’s Aladdin, but if you liked Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, you will probably like this.

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker is the third film of the third trilogy from the Star Wars franchise. It offers nothing new, but if you were a fan of the first two episodes of this second unnecessary trilogy, you may enjoy it.

This week’s new releases include Kino Lorber’s Barbara Stanwyck Collection and Film Noir: The Dark Side of Cinema II.