What New York City won’t do to a man. Take Longfellow Deeds of Mandrake Falls, Vermont. This habitue of small-town America has it pretty good: He writes poetry for a greeting card company, plays tuba in a marching band, and has a fondness for fire trucks. Mr. Deeds does pine for the company of a “lady in distress,” but, really, why rock the boat? 

As it turns out, the boat is rocked plenty upon Mr. Deeds inheriting $20 million from a long-lost uncle. He travels to Manhattan to put his newfound financial affairs in order and, wouldn’t you know it, the city is full of fast-talking characters whose duplicity is second only to their condescension. When a young lady, Mary Dawson, accompanies our hero for a night on the town, Mr. Deeds ends up going on a bender. Or was it a binge? However you define it, the upshot is the same: A man loses his pants.

Frank Capra’s “Mr. Deeds Goes To Town” (1936) will be undergoing a week-long stay at Film Forum in conjunction with the New York City premiere of Matthew Wells’s documentary, “Frank Capra: Mr. America.” A couple of other Capra films will be on view, “Platinum Blonde” (1931) and “Lady For A Day” (1933), but “Mr. Deeds” is given pride of place. How deliberate is its revival at a cultural moment in which the homespun verities of American life have regained a certain prominence?

What Capra would have made of Donald J. Trump is a matter of conjecture, though he may have taken a shine to J.D. Vance: The latter’s rags-to-riches trajectory corresponds with the director’s own experience. 

Capra was one of eight children born to Salvatore and Rosaria Capra of Bisacquino, Italy; all immigrated to America in 1903. How this self-proclaimed “scrounging new kid trapped in the Sicilian ghetto of Los Angeles” became among the most popular and admired of directors will, I imagine, be outlined in “Frank Capra: Mr. America.”

As for “Mr. Deeds”: Where, exactly, does it figure into the Capra pantheon? “It’s A Wonderful Life” (1946) has an immovable cultural ubiquity. “It Happened One Night” (1934) is sexier; “Meet John Doe” (1941), more brooding. Still, who can resist the story of an everyman with a heart of gold sticking it to the phonies of the world by deflating their pomposities, hypocrisies, and mendacities?

Capra was wise to the appeal of his lead, Gary Cooper, the lanky actor from Helena, Montana. Cooper’s deliberate manner, both in action and cadence, made for a stoic and heroic everyman: “Every line in his face spelled honesty.” Still, Cooper was adept at comedy — more than he is typically given credit for. Ernst Lubitsch knew as much, as did Preston Sturges. Still, it was Capra who corralled the actor’s gifts for comedy and drama to pointed ends. In its variety and scope, Cooper’s performance as Longfellow Deeds is one for the ages.

Take, for instance, the shift in cinematic perspective when the right-thinking Vermontian not only has his heart broken, but his actions and sanity called into question. In the process, Capra transforms Mr. Deeds to a lone man haunted by fate from a plucky teller-of-truths. When our hero is brought to trial, Mr. Deeds is a diminished soul: His brow becomes increasingly beetled, his gaze disaffected, and his heartbreak seemingly beyond redemption. 

His romantic lead, Jean Arthur, matches Cooper every step of the way. This criminally underrated actress is among the joys of “Mr. Deeds,” because, like Cooper, Arthur was adept at laughs and tears — often within the spate of the same scene. Capra thought enough of Arthur to hire her for “You Can’t Take It With You” (1938) and “Mr. Smith Goes To Washington” (1939), and she repaid him each time with a deftness that approaches grace. Arthur is among the screen’s finest comedians, and only one of many reasons to remind yourself why “Mr. Deeds Goes To Town” is a consummate heartwarmer.