As soon as you walk into room 15 of the Mauritshuis, you notice her. Hair tidied away into a turban, face a pool of light in an ocean of infinite black: amid all the fuss and frivolity of the paintings around it, Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring stands out as a portrait of extraordinary simplicity and power. Once it has caught your attention, it never lets go.

In part, it’s because of the composition. Few painters have dared to set their subjects against such darkness, nor stripped away so much distracting detail. Mostly, though, it’s down to the expression of the girl. Forget the Mona Lisa: if you want ambiguity, this is where to come. Lips moist, head turned, her pose has all the makings of something corny and come-hither. Her eyes, though, overflow with uncertainty, and as you gaze at her, you can almost feel her apprehension fluttering in your own heart.

Who is she? What is she scared of? Nobody knows. The identity of the sitter is not recorded. Indeed, precious little is known about Vermeer. What we are sure of, however, is that when he finished it, around 1665, this Dutchman from Delft had left us one of the world’s great paintings.

Such is the pull of the portrait that it became the subject of a book, which in turn inspired a big-budget movie: Girl with a Pearl Earring, starring Colin Firth and Scarlett Johansson, which was released on Friday. It has little to say about Vermeer or his art, but by bringing the girl to life and telling her story, the makers have managed to create a masterpiece of their own. The film is bound to send hundreds of film-goers and art-lovers off on an odyssey to the painting’s home, in The Hague.

Is it worth joining them? If you’re a keen gallery-goer, then unequivocally yes. And once you’re finished at the Mauritshuis, there’s plenty more to keep you busy over a long weekend. The Hague may no longer be the capital of the Netherlands, but it is still the seat of its government. The Dutch queen goes to work here every day, parliament sits at the Binnenhof, and 80 embassies dot its handsome brick streets. Think of it as Amsterdam’s rich older brother: better connected, more refined and much less inclined to raise hell.

It is also largely tourist-free, which, if you’ve ever fought your way through the neon-lit corners of its illustrious neighbour, will come as a huge relief.

In the frame: as a rule, reproductions do oil paintings no justice, and Girl with a Pearl Earring is no exception. See it in person and the colours are more radiant, the ambiguity more acute. The Mauritshuis (Tue-Sat 10am-5pm, Sun 11am-5pm; 00 31 70-302 3456; £5.20) is one of Europe’s finest small museums, home to two more Vermeers and several exquisite Rembrandts and Holbeins.

What’s more, The Hague has not one but two first-rate small galleries. The Gemeente Museum (Tue-Sun 11am-5pm; 3381 1111; £5.40), just north of the city centre, has the world’s largest collection of paintings by Piet Mondrian, including wonderful stuff from his early years. Downstairs are paintings by Schiele, Picasso and Van Gogh, and there are new photographic and contemporary galleries next door. Even a dedicated aesthete will struggle to manage it all in one go.

Delft: these days, Vermeer’s home town is a suburb of The Hague and just 20 minutes from the city centre by tram number 1. It’s an absurdly pretty place, full of tree-lined canals, immaculately kept old houses and polite little squares, and is a fine place for a stroll, a coffee and a slice of apple pie. Kleyweg’s Stads-Koffyhuis, at Oude Delft 133, is the ideal spot for refuelling: serious-minded about its food and laid-back about everything else.

Just don’t expect to see too much of the old master. Both of the houses where he lived and worked as an adult have gone. None of his art is on show here, either — although you’ll see enough fifth-rate reproductions to give you a headache.

It hardly matters. Arm yourself with a copy of A View of Delft by Anthony Bailey (Pimlico £10), the best book on the Vermeer enigma, linger over your coffee and soak up the atmosphere. Stay until night falls if you can, when the streets suddenly empty and the ghosts come out. By the time you go back to The Hague, you’ll understand the man the Dutch call “De Mythe” a lot better.

The beach: need a breath of fresh air after all that art? Then head for Scheveningen, another suburb of The Hague, which also happens to be Holland’s biggest seaside resort. It is, frankly, overbuilt, but you can’t argue with the gambolling beach, nor the bracing effect of the North Sea weather.

And guess what? There’s another gallery here: Museum Beelden aan Zee (Tue-Sun 11am-5pm; 358 5857; £3.60), a sculpture museum built into a sand dune. Afterwards, take a turn at the Sealife Centre (10am-6pm; 354 2100; £7), full of gee-whiz moments, especially in the octopus gallery.

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