Covers, towels and the one trick nobody tells you.

There were three versions of the ending. The one you see was the smallest and quietest of them. Most of the props came from a charity shop around the corner, and most of them went back afterwards.

Staying dry

The creator shot this in the gaps between a day job and a long commute, a few minutes at a time over most of a year. Our editors disagreed about the ending. Half of us loved it and half of us wanted five more minutes, which is usually a good sign.

Small crews make small films feel personal. This one was made by two people, a borrowed tripod and a very understanding landlord. The edit was built around the music rather than the other way round, which gives the whole piece a steady, walking rhythm.

• A clear bag and a rubber band
• Two small towels
• Shoot from under a doorway

Behind the scenes, the set was held together with tape, string and a surprising number of clothes pegs. If you are new to filmmaking, watch this one with the sound off first, then again with it on. You will learn a lot.

We watched this three times before deciding to feature it, and it got better every time. The pacing is patient without ever feeling slow. We asked what advice they would give a first-time filmmaker. The answer was short: finish things, then show them to people.

The rain looks better on screen than it feels.

Kofi Mensah, travel desk

Sound does a lot of the work here. Turn it up, or better, put on headphones and let the room noise pull you in. The creator kept a notebook of every shot, with times, weather and what went wrong. It reads like a diary of the whole summer.

Nobody on this project was paid for the first month. They made it because they wanted to see it finished. There is a quiet joke running through the whole piece. Once you notice it, you will want to go back to the beginning.

Colour was kept deliberately muted until the last minute, which makes the final shot land even harder. A local choir recorded the closing song in a church hall on a Tuesday night, between two rehearsals of their own.

If you only watch one thing on Frameline this week, make it this. Then send it to someone who has never heard of the creator. Look closely at the background of the second half. Most of what makes the scene work happens behind the main action.

We like how little the film explains. It trusts you to notice things, and it rewards you when you do. Nothing here was staged. The crew set up, waited, and filmed what happened, which took more patience than any script would.

On the day, the crew had one battery left and a train to catch. They filmed the ending in a single take and ran for the platform. There is no dialogue for most of the running time, and it never needs any. The pictures carry the story on their own.

Weather decided the schedule. Three days of rain became the best part of the film once the crew stopped fighting it. We watched the rough cut on a laptop in a noisy café, and it still held the whole table’s attention.

Most of the footage was shot on a single lens, handheld, with whatever light the day allowed. That limit is part of why it feels so honest. When we asked what they would change, the answer was nothing, and after a few more viewings we agree.

The best moments were accidents: a dog crossing the frame, a bus arriving early, a laugh nobody planned. The music was recorded live in the same space, on the same afternoon, which is why it fits the pictures so well.

Every frame could be a postcard, but the film never stops to admire itself. It keeps moving, and so do you. Much of the light comes from shop windows and street lamps. The creator carried a small reflector and used it twice.

Some viewers write in to say the film made them call their parents. We think that is the best review a short can get. The opening shot lasts almost a minute. It sounds long on paper, but by the end you will wish it had kept going.