“Delightful little curio that doesn’t reinvent the genre, but rather provides a charming and welcome diversion.”

“Are you a police officer or a tourist?”

This question is posed early in Conrad & Crab – Idiotic Gems, delivered by one of the many eccentric residents of the idyllic small town in Northern France where the film takes place. The target is Alain Crab, a down-on-his-luck police detective who has recently been relocated to Northeastern France, to the town of Sainte-Marie-aux-Mines from a bigger city in his native Belgium, accompanying his partner Francis Conrad. Neither is particularly thrilled about their new assignment, since it implies a lack of faith in their ability to handle more serious investigations. Their first task – and perhaps the one that will define them to a local community that is immediately skeptical about their skills – is to find a ring belonging to the daughter of one of the town’s richest and most hedonistic families. In the hands of just about any other detective this investigation would have been resolved within hours, but Conrad and Crab are beyond inefficient, their methods unorthodox (and frankly bizarre) – and yet, they do ultimately find the answers they seek, albeit not always in the way that they would hope. Based on supporting characters that were previously featured in The Other Laurens, one of the director’s previous forays into small-town crime comedy, Idiotic Gems is an extremely simple film that would be derivative had it not been handled with such genuine affection and the desire to entertain audiences more than it challenges them. It all amounts to a delightfully offbeat comedy-of-manners that may not be particularly innovative, but is nonetheless consistently entertaining.

There is something profoundly cinematic about a story of lawbreaking being committed in a small town, the last place we would expect to find any kind of wrongdoing. The entire genre of “cosy crime” has proven to be extraordinarily effective as a result of our inherent affection for the combination of mysteries and small-town eccentricity, which is precisely what Schmitz was hoping to capture with this film. Idiotic Gems is built on the premise that a low-level crime (in this case, the theft of a valuable gemstone) is innocuous enough that a broad comedy, one that borders on outright slapstick, could be appropriately produced. The focus here is not necessarily on the crime itself (it’s shown to be almost meaningless, particularly since the victim seems strangely blasé about the theft), but rather the location and what it represents. Two bumbling police officers find themselves demoted to the point where, instead of solving mysteries that actually impact the community, they’re stuck working on practically victimless cases, solely as a means to prevent them from being involved in actual investigations that would otherwise be ruined by their clumsy approach. Through this, Schmitz evokes some charming commentary that subverts the idea of these small, pastoral towns as being purely decorative – many stories set in small, remote parts of the world are built on the premise that there are secrets lingering beneath the surface, and while in this instance those secrets are more comedic than anything else, the film does still pander to this narrative trope, doing so effectively and playing into a familiar structure that has proven to be quite entertaining.

What we do notice once this aspect of the film reveals itself is that Idiotic Gems is the rare kind of story based around a criminal investigation where the focus is actually not on the mystery itself. The theft and subsequent attempts to find the culprit form the story’s backdrop, but it’s far from the aspect that keeps us engaged. Instead, it’s the style that draws us in, with Schmitz seemingly inspired by directors like Aki Kaurismäki and Jim Jarmusch, whose deadpan humour and tendency to focus on the inconsequential minutiae of everyday life (and ability to make them compelling even at their most simplistic) are clear influences here, both stylistically and narratively. Idiotic Gems is most appropriately categorised as a “hangout” film, since we follow Crab and Conrad as they meander around the town, interacting with its peculiar residents in the hopes of getting some insights that will solve a mystery that they both know is far beneath them, and somehow managing to find a solution, despite their best efforts. A large part of the success of this film comes from Rodolphe Burger and Francis Sœtens, who reprise their roles and prove to be unexpectedly compelling leads. These parts require actors who can lean into the absurdity without winking at the audience, and both leads are more than capable of bringing a perfect blend of earnestness and peculiarity to the film, which is essentially just a showcase for these characters. The cinematography, while simple, is effective in showing the beautiful locations, filled with bright colours and striking architecture, showcasing the unexpected convergence of the past and present in this quaint hamlet.

Idiotic Gems seems to be a trial run for what we can envision as a series of films, since the world-building, as well as the focus on emphasising the relationship between these two characters (who had previously appeared as scene-stealing supporting players in one of the director’s prior works), implies more is planned for them in the future, this spin-off possibly becoming part of something larger. While it may not be entirely original, the film has a sincerity that we can appreciate, even as it plays into familiar tropes as part of its efforts to appeal to a wider portion of the audience. This is a mystery film where we eventually lose interest in the central subject matter, not because it is poorly told or lacks charm, but rather because so much of what surrounds it catches our attention, allowing the viewer to feel more engaged than we would in a by-the-numbers crime comedy. It is well-crafted and contains some tremendous performances, as well as encompassing a kind of optimistic nihilism, a concept as offbeat and peculiar as these characters, who simply wander through life without trying to comprehend it. The meandering narrative and tendency to focus on the trivial aspects of these characters’ activities show that sometimes meaning isn’t all that important when telling a story. It’s engaging for those who have an appreciation of the absurd and outlandish, proving that even the most trivial and inane concepts can be the foundation for endearing works such as this delightful little curio that doesn’t reinvent the genre, but rather provides a charming and welcome diversion.