Entertaining Mr Sloane (15)

Studio Canal, £17.99

This digitally-restored version of Douglas Hickox's 1970 film, an adaptation of Joe Orton's controversial 1964 play, is released to commemorate both Orton's death – he was murdered by his lover on August 9 1967 – and the 50th anniversary of the Sexual Offences Act, which decriminalised homosexual acts between men in England and Wales and had been passed a fortnight earlier. The play itself was Orton's first performed work and its content – murder, fetish wear, sexuality both repressed and unfettered – divided critics and audiences.

Thankfully Clive Exton's script pretty much leaves Orton's words intact, which gives Hickox's four-strong cast some wonderful lines to deliver – particularly the great Beryl Reid, decked out here in lurid, see-through dress and auburn wig. She plays middle-aged Kath, who encounters young Mr Sloane (Peter McEnery) sunbathing half-naked on a gravestone and, attracted to him, invites him to lodge with her and her father, known as Dadda (Alan Webb). When Kath's straight-laced but closeted brother Ed (Harry Andrews) turns up in a camel coat and a pink 1959 Pontiac convertible, he takes a lascivious interest in Sloane too. But Dadda has recognised Sloane as the man implicated in a murder a couple of years earlier and is suspicious – to his ultimate cost.

Webb was only five years older than Andrews and the fact is glaringly obvious. But otherwise the casting is magnificent, with Birmingham-born McEnery given Sloane a broad Midlands accent that adds another layer of absurdity to the black farce that ensues as Ed and Kath home in on the unsuspecting (but utterly amoral) Sloane.

Orton's legacy to British theatre is clearly immense. But watch this screen adaptation and his influence on TV writers such as Mark Gatiss, Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton becomes clear too: at times this feels like a feature-length episode of Shearsmith and Pemberton's oddball black comedy Inside No. 9. Extras include new interviews with Peter McEnery and Orton's sister Leonie, and trivia fans will be delighted to know that pink Pontiac once belonged to Pink Floyd guitarist Syd Barrett.

Narcos: Season 1 & 2 (15)

Arrow Films, £21.99

Series three of this gritty drama about Colombian drug lord Pablo Escobar goes live on Netflix today, a fourth series has been commissioned and the first two are riding high in the list of the 10 most watched video on demand (VOD) shows. In other words it's clear that creators Chris Brancato, Carlo Bernard and Doug Miro have an ongoing hit on their hands. To feed our apparent appetite for the gaudy, violent, high-octane period piece Arrow Films now bring series one and two together in boxset form for those who haven't yet bitten the VOD bullet and like to do their binge-watching the old-fashioned way.

If you know the story you'll know that Escobar (played here by Brazilian actor Wagner Moura) built a drugs business in the Colombian of Medellin, turned it into a globe-spanning empire and was eventually run to ground by members of Search Bloc, the task force set out up catch him. That story fills series one and two, which ends with Escobar's death in an encounter with Search Bloc in Medellin in 1993, which begs the question: how will seasons three and four fare without him? By continuing the story of Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) agent Steve Murphy (Boyd Holbrook), if the pre-release teasers were anything to go by – and hoping the people who replace Escobar at the top of the tree, bitter rivals the Cali Cartel, are every bit as gaudy, violent and engaging as he was.

The Deadly Affair (12)

Powerhouse Films, £14.99

For most fans of John le Carre's novels, screen representations of his greatest creation, George Smiley, start and end with Alec Guinness's take on the lugubrious spy master, first realised in 1979's TV adaptation of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy and again in Smiley's People three years later. In keeping with the period, Guinness plays Smiley as a grey-brown man in a grey-brown decade – and that's certainly the colour palette Swedish director Tomas Alfredson picked for his 2011 big screen period adaptation of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier Spy.

But Guinness wasn't the first to play Smiley. The character has a small role in Martin Ritt's celebrated 1965 adaptation of The Spy Who Came In From The Cold (played by Rupert Davies), and the lead role in The Deadly Affair, Sidney Lumet's far-less-heralded 1966 adaptation of Call For The Dead, released as part of Powerhouse Films's Indicator strand. And who gets the plum role this time? James Mason.

Confusingly, he's called Charles Dobbs here because film studio Paramount owned the rights to the Smiley name. Meanwhile Smiley's serially unfaithful aristocratic wife Ann is played by Ingmar Bergman's muse Harriet Andersson, complete with jarring Swedish lilt. Other than that, the characters and the plot stay mostly true to the novel, though the ever-so-slightly-funky Quincy Jones soundtrack and the hilariously misjudged Astrud Gilberto theme tune are another reminder of the film's genesis in the Swinging Sixties. A curio, then, rather than a must-see, though the presence in the cast of a hard-faced Simone Signoret as former concentration camp victim Elsa Fennan and bullish Harry Andrews on top form as Inspector Mendel make it an enjoyable enough watch.