On the film festival circuit, one sees a lot of indie films that invite us to appreciate them via the literary practice of “biographical criticism.” A festival-goer learns of what the filmmaker’ went through to get their story on screen, often from the filmmakers making appearances to support their movie.

We’re told who the unknown actors starring in it actually are, how little the movie cost, and big lumps of back-story are added to our appreciation of it by all that extra information floating around — festival programs, “director’s notes,” etc.

But a good film has everything you need to know about its story and its characters right there on the screen and in the sountrack. It’s self-contained and self-explanatory.

Director and co-writer Linh Tran’s “Waiting for the Light to Change” collected the big prize at this year’s Slamdance (contra-Sundance) Film Festival. It’s a gentle, moody melodrama that goes beyond being “a film that makes you come to it.”

There is information “out there” about its plot and characters that isn’t necessarily conveyed on the screen. Back story is either half-muttered in a single moment, or omitted and included on the IMDb page description of the film.

Tran was loathe to even have characters even identify each other by name so that we can make those associations and get into the movie quicker. She didn’t take care to get clear audio takes from her actors, who like many confuse mumbling for underplaying, a problem that’s only gotten worse over the years as filmmakers ignore it or forget to focus on it, because they know what their characters are saying. They have a script right in front of them, after all. Viewers don’t.

I watched “Waiting” with headphones, and re-watched passages to make sure of the omissions I was sure were missing in all the half-swallowed dialogue. There are things we know about it (again, IMDb) that aren’t necessarily explained on the screen and the soundtrack.

The movie is a wintry story of five people, some of them friends, wrapped up in a low stakes, slow-danced romantic do-si-do while gathered at a house on one of the Great Lakes.

Amy and Kim (Jin Park, Joyce Ha) are friends with mutual relatives, or so we gather from Lin (Qun Chi), who has just come over from China and laments a missing cousin from their ranks.

Jay (Sam Straley) is a just-fired chef who smokes almost constantly, and suggests almost everyone with him in this or that moment enjoy a puff. It’s his grandmother’s lake house, and no he didn’t make the call to ensure the key was there before they arrived.

That sets up a moment for Kim and Amy to bond over having to pee in the backyard, thus demonstrating their intimate connection.

Kim, we eventually gather, is in a relationship with Jay. Amy, we eventually figure out, knew him first.

When Jay’s friend Alex arrives, a shared joint gets Amy’s ardor up. But is Alex is her first choice to share a warm embrace by chilly lakeside?

“Maybe it’s better to long for something that to have it,” Amy opines.

Amy, we also gather, has changed. She never comes out and says “Back when I was fat,” but that’s in the plot description if not the dialogue.

“Do you think if we met now we’d still be friends,” Kim wants to know?

In limited group dynamics like this script, we have character “functions” laid out for us plainly. “Outsider” Lin is a witness with decent command of English and no inhibitions about sharing gossip as to who just kissed whom.

The guys are not-quite-charming lumps, with Jay moping and smoking about his lost job and maybe jealous of Alex, who brought his guitar and thus might be catnip to Amy or Kim.

The performances are mostly understated, with Park having the broadest, most overt character to play. We can wonder why she’s acting as if she’s romantically making up for lost time, or we can read on IMDb that she’s “recently undergone dramatic weight loss” and have that simplistic cause-and-effect added on, ex post facto.

I liked the tone and the limited arcs the characters play out. Up to a point. Scenes are smartly conceived and well-played.

But I don’t care how much or how little the film cost. There isn’t much going on here, and even some of that isn’t explained on the screen between the opening shot and the closing credits, which is where it counts.

Rating: unrated, adult situations, alcohol and pot abuse, profanity

Cast: Jin Park, Joyce Ha, Qun Chi, Sam Straley and Erik Barrientos.

Credits: Directed by Linh Tran, scripted by Jewells Santos, Linh Tran and Delia Van Praag. A Freestyle release.

Running time: 1:29