The concept of family means something different to everyone – for some, it’s the people to whom we are related biologically, while for others it takes on a deeper meaning, referring to those we choose to have as our closest confidantes. The point is that every family is different, and they usually change from person to person. This is the fundamental premise of A Thousand Clowns, a wonderful play written for the stage by Herb Gardner, and which was subsequently transferred to film by Fred Coe, who also worked on the original Broadway production. The premise is simple – an eccentric, down-on-his-luck comedy writer spends his days waxing poetic about the flaws he sees in everyday society, usually with his nephew (and unofficially adopted son) in tow, who proves to be both the voice of reason and the conscience for his freewheeling uncle, who he both reveres and finds to be a deeply frustrating presence. Their daily adventures come to a halt with the arrival of a pair of social workers in their lives, who make it clear that our protagonist is not an ideal guardian for such an impressionable child, and he has a very limited amount of time to wrangle the loose edges of his life and make something of himself, including finding a job and showing that he can support a child. This sets off a series of hilarious misadventures that reveal something much deeper below the surface. A film that has mostly been viewed as a pleasant comedic romp, but proves to be far more complex in terms of character development, as well as its underlying thematic content, A Thousand Clowns is perhaps one of the landmark works of humour of the 1960s, a decade where the medium was undergoing quite a substantial shift due to changing mentalities and a growing acceptance to more subversive and unconventional narratives, and this film stands as one of the most intriguing, perhaps not in terms of form or content, but rather in the ideas that it brings to life, and the overall intentions that emerge the more time we spend with this story, proving to be quite a unique piece of cinema, the likes of which we rarely see nowadays.

If there is one subject that any writer will admittedly say they enjoy using as the basis for their work, it is writing itself. Something is endearing about vaguely self-congratulatory narratives about how difficult it is to be a writer – and this isn’t even getting to the more specific niche of being a comedy writer, which is the starting point for A Thousand Clowns, which begins by focusing on an out-of-work writer who quit his previously lucrative job writing for a children’s television show because he felt it lacked substance, not realizing that it was the only career he was capable of doing without needing to become “serious”, a quality he has never quite understood or been able to define. Gardner uses this as the foundation for the film’s bitingly funny critique of the entertainment industry – writers occupy a peculiar space in show business since they are simultaneously insiders and pariahs. They’re extremely useful and vital to the process of creating entertainment since they’re very often present from the start. However, they’re also seemingly expendable when it comes time to put their work into practice since once the script has been written, it’s out of their hands and instead the responsibility of the directors, producers and actors, who are much more established in most cases, or at least receive the recognition. This is something that Gardner explores throughout this narrative, using this as the basis for a borderline revolutionary satire that is familiar enough to be reliable and comforting, but has a subversive edge that becomes increasingly more clear as the narrative progresses. Tonally, A Thousand Clowns is a film that moves at a mile a minute, compressing dozens of jokes into nearly every scene, and while this can be overwhelming in some cases (and a work designed for the stage, particularly one that coincided with the final days of vaudeville, which served as an inspiration for a lot of this story), Coe’s direction is assured and confident, enough to reign everything in and make it genuinely quite compelling from the start, a challenging endeavour for such a dense adaptation that needed a firm hand guiding its production, particularly in realizing its more unconventional aspects.

For many contemporary viewers, Jason Robards is a remnant of the past, a familiar actor who was more known for supporting parts in major films, and who very rarely stood out as anything more than a reliable character actor. Yet, there was a time when he was considered one of the finest actors in the English language, so much so that he eclipsed contemporaries such as Marlon Brando and Paul Newman, who were seen as his peers but managed to retain much more cultural cache. A film like A Thousand Clowns makes it abundantly clear why he was seen as this titan of his craft since it is difficult to imagine any other actor being able to deliver such a nuanced, witty performance that seamlessly leaps between comedy and drama with such incredible ease, which is a product of his exceptional gifts and ability to fully disappear into a role. It may be a controversial opinion, considering his body of work, but there’s an argument to be made for A Thousand Clowns being his greatest screen performance. From the first shot of the film, which is a close-up of his grizzled but warm smile, to the final beautiful moments, Robards commands the screen and carries us through this peculiar and engaging story. He originated the part on Broadway, so it made sense that he would arrive fully prepared and raring to go when it came time to adapt it to film, a medium that he had already mastered in a range of exceptional performances. He’s joined by the always delightful and woefully underpraised Barbara Harris, who may be a lot more reserved and straight-laced than she would come to be in later films, but her warmth and charm shine through consistently in this film, which knows exactly how to use her. Barry Gordon delivers one of the rare child performances where the character is precocious and wise beyond his years but never grating a very rare occurrence. Gene Saks and William Daniels (who also reprise their roles from the stage production, much like Robards and Gordon – it’s only Sandy Dennis and Larry Haines that weren’t brought over from the original Broadway case), and they each have fantastic moments, as does Martin Balsam, who occupies the role of Robards’ long-suffering brother. The cast of A Thousand Clowns is solid and reliable, and they each turn in memorable performances that add nuances to this already layered and captivating film, which only benefits from their terrific work.

Perhaps it isn’t a rule that is necessarily essential or followed to the point where it can be considered the key to success, but there’s a very specific kind of comedy that has proven to be incredibly popular, achieving a kind of off-kilter brilliance through the deft combination of humour and pathos, which are blended to create films that are simultaneously blisteringly funny and genuinely heartfelt. A Thousand Clowns is a fantastic example, and we find that the comedy is sharp and precise, but what truly elevates it is not the constant barrage of jokes (which are undeniably funny and frequent), but rather what Gardner, as well as Coe in his capacity as the director, choose to fill the spaces in between the jokes with, which is usually the most ambigious and challenging part of constructing a comedy. After a few scenes of madcap hilarity and rapid-fire humour, we find the jokes momentarily abating, and being replaced with a more nuanced and slightly subdued approach, where we are given the chance to peer into the minds of these characters, who are defined as far more than just one-dimensional archetypes. This is not a film that wants to only be viewed as an irreverent comedy, but also one that can put aside its eccentricities, and in the process reveals the underlying tenderness, primarily in the form of showing these characters as being vulnerable and well-crafted individuals, with fears and insecurities, as well as major shortcomings that cannot be easily fixed with just a change of heart and sudden shift in behaviour. A Thousand Clowns is a very touching film and one that is almost as much about exploring the quieter, more dramatic moments as it showcases the broad and rambunctious sense of humour that we encounter at the start. Coe’s direction is crisp and direct, resulting in an adaptation that feels genuinely fresh and exciting, particularly in how it oscillates between a cutting-edge entertainment satire and a genuinely moving family drama, with both sides of the narrative being given equal distribution of time and attention, which makes quite a big difference and proves that a comedy can be genuinely moving and touch on issues far broader than our initial expectations may think possible.

A Thousand Clowns is the kind of film that seems inconsequential on the surface, a wacky comedy with a fun premise, but very few surface-level qualities that would persuade the discerning viewer to give it a chance, especially since it isn’t widely spoken about in terms of containing particularly resonant qualities. Yet, it doesn’t take long for us to get fully engrossed in this film, which is an eccentric, heartfelt comedy with a lot of genuine soul, a rare commodity for a genre that has always been viewed as secondary in terms of exploring serious subject matter. Despite a few moments of aching melancholy, A Thousand Clowns manages to be a profoundly moving tribute to a family that is neither unnecessarily sentimental nor overwrought but remains as outrageously funny throughout, only contrasting the humour with a more sensible and heartfelt approach to the narrative. As a whole, A Thousand Clowns is a very entertaining film – it offers unique and charming insights into the lives of these characters, who are brought to life by a gifted cast, who work laboriously to develop them as far more than just narrow archetypes, and instead creating vibrant portrayals that are as authentic as they are entertaining. The combination of sharp humour and genuine emotions set the foundation for this film, which is a truly endearing exercise in balancing different tones, all while telling a relatively simple and unfurnished story. Its stunning black-and-white cinematography captures every nook and cranny of New York City, while the striking performances by a wonderful cast set the narrative foundation and allow it to be a far more captivating film than we may have initially expected. Coe’s ability to toggle between hilarious comedy and heartfelt drama is remarkable and immediately establishes A Thousand Clowns as one of the great comedies of the 1960s and a film that will likely resonate with modern viewers, who will find something valuable in many of the film’s more unconventional but no less impressive lessons, which are delivered with wit, charm and an endless abundance of genuine compassion for its characters and the multitudes of people who are represented through this delightful working-class comedy with a subversive and jagged edge.