I recently sat down with filmmaker and online-trailblazer Jack Howard — the British YouTube personality who first rose to prominence through his comedy duo Jack & Dean (whose channel amassed over 73 million views). After honing his craft in sketches and commercials, Jack has now made a bold leap into the festival circuit with his Oscar- and BAFTA-qualified short film The Second Time Around — a moody, genre-blending drama that marks a significant evolution of his storytelling voice. We talked about the making of the film, his transition from YouTube to directing, and the advice he has for the next generation of emerging filmmakers.
Where did the idea come from for this film?
“I think I first came up with it around 2021 or maybe early 2022. Like everyone during the pandemic, I didn’t have much to do, and I had a very complicated relationship with Christopher Nolan’s Tenet. There are so many interesting ideas in that film, and when I first watched it, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Because there weren’t many new films coming out—and because I’m such a big Nolan fan—I ended up spending a lot of time digging into it, trying to find the emotional core that the film keeps a bit hidden.
There’s a scene between John David Washington and Robert Pattinson—their first meeting—that really stuck with me. It’s deliberately strange and withholding. You can tell something’s off, but you’re not quite sure what. It’s not emotionally open at all, and that’s intentional. I started wondering if you could tell a story like that—where one character knows everything and the other knows nothing—but bring all the emotion to the surface.
From there, I started building it piece by piece. I’d come up with an idea and then ask myself, okay, why would this happen? Why would I do that if I were in that situation? It was a slow, deliberate process—not like it came to me in a dream or anything.
I’ve always loved high-concept, genre stories—I literally have a Back to the Future poster behind me—but what I really love is when those ideas are used to explore something human. I think using something impossible can actually give you a really truthful way of looking at real experiences. And even though I love all the puzzle-y, mechanical stuff, I knew I wanted this to be an emotional, heartfelt story first.”
You speak about Christopher Nolan being an influence for the film. Was there any other influences at all for the look of the film or the general story?
“The look of the film was really inspired by Osgood Perkins’ Longlegs. I wanted to use horror as the jumping-off point for how the story was presented—to feed into the mystery of it all, so you’re never quite sure what genre you’re in or what to expect.
We actually shot the film on the same camera and lenses they used for Longlegs. I loved that palette and those big wide lenses, even for close-ups. It’s great because you can still see so much of the environment—your eyes can wander around the space, which I think adds a lot. It just really worked for me.
There were other films in the back of my mind too, even if they’re not obvious influences—like Arrival, in how it uses a high concept to tell a deeply emotional story, or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. And Moonlight as well, especially that diner scene—it’s such a beautiful, pivotal moment. One of my early thoughts was that I wanted the film to start like you might be watching Halloween, but by the end, you realize you’re watching Moonlight.”
“if you don’t believe that journey, the whole thing falls apart. So for me, there was no point in making it unless I could get people that good. The film lives and dies on their performances.“
Your cast are incredible. Caroline Goodall and Hannah Onslow. What was the casting process like? How did you land on these two incredible actresses?
“It was really important to me to have actors of that calibre in the film. That was part of the challenge I set for myself. I knew I wanted to make a short—something contained, around ten minutes, something achievable—but I also wanted to push myself a bit. So I added these little challenges, like shooting at night and in the rain—things I hadn’t really had the chance to play with as a storyteller before.
Casting Hannah Onslow and Caroline Goodall was another one of those challenges. I didn’t want it to just be a friend of a friend or someone I already knew. I wanted a veteran actress who’s had this incredible career, paired with a young, up-and-coming actor who’s clearly going to be a star. That combination was really important, because even though I’m proud of the script, the story is told mostly through their faces—in the silences, in their reactions.
Hannah really guides you through the film. She starts in a place of fear and uncertainty and ends up somewhere really emotional, and if you don’t believe that journey, the whole thing falls apart. So for me, there was no point in making it unless I could get people that good. The film lives and dies on their performances.
Casting them both came together in really different ways. My producer already knew Hannah, introduced us, and she immediately connected with the script—she had such lovely thoughts and ideas about it. Caroline I’d known a bit longer—I met her randomly back in 2018. When we were thinking of who could play that role, her name suddenly popped into my head and I thought, why haven’t we thought of her before? I sent the script to her agent—I was too nervous to text her directly—and the next day I was sitting in her living room. It all felt very natural and unofficial, but from that moment, I just knew—she was in the film.”
I find you’re probably known for comedy, with like Jack and Dean. This film seems to be a complete flip from that. What has drawn you to this genre? Obviously, you spoke a little bit about Christopher Nolan as well, but it just seems to be a complete shift for what you’re known for.
“I think in some ways it is, and in some ways it isn’t. I’ve always been more inspired by genre films—basically, the easiest way to put it is that I’ve always been drawn to things that aren’t comedy. I’m not really a comedy nerd; I’m a cinema nerd. Even when I was making comedy, I tried to bring that cinematic approach into it. I used to say that if you took the jokes out of what I was making, it would still look like it belonged to that genre.
But over time I realized that people don’t necessarily think like that—they just see it and go, “Oh, you’re making comedies.” My dream has always been to make something on the scale of a Hollywood blockbuster, and I started thinking, no one’s going to believe I can do that if all I’m known for is comedy. Nothing against comedy—I love it—but it’s not really where I see myself going, and it’s not what inspires me most. So I wanted to challenge myself and see if I could make something that stood shoulder to shoulder with the kinds of films that truly influence me.
At the same time, I’ve realized that some of my comedy background still seeps in. The structure of the short, for example—it’s not that different from a sketch. There’s a setup, a middle where the premise plays out, and then a kind of callback at the end. Except here, that callback isn’t meant to make you laugh—it’s meant to hit you in the soft bits.
It’s also a two-hander, and in a way, there’s still that dynamic of one character being a bit quirkier and the other being straighter. Those are definitely instincts that came from making comedy, even though I stripped away the absurdity and the constant need to tell jokes.
And even though this film isn’t a comedy, I didn’t want the characters to not be funny. People are funny. Especially Caroline’s character—whenever she says something vulnerable, she can’t just leave it hanging. She has to undercut it, to make a little joke or deflect. I think that’s very human, and also very British—not being able to say something meaningful without immediately going, “I’m joking.” She does that throughout, and the humor that comes from it isn’t about laughs, it’s about showing who she is.
So yeah, I think everything I’ve done before—the comedy, the genre influences—it’s all fed into this film in some way.”
“The things I was drawn to started to change—I moved away from the more cartoony stuff and towards something a little more grounded and emotional.“
That links very well to my next question- the film has got a very sombre tone, but you do lift it with the odd comic moment. Do you find it easy to blend this sombre tone with comedy?
“I don’t know if I really gave it that much thought, to be honest. Some things you just kind of know instinctively, and then there are others where you have to do your research and learn the language of it.
With horror, for example, that was something I hadn’t really done before, so I did dig into it a lot for this project. Some of my early instincts were off, but once I started studying the tropes and understanding how they worked, I could apply them more deliberately.
But when it comes to mixing a somber tone with comedy, I think that probably came more naturally. Some of the later Jack and Dean stuff was already heading in that direction—we had sketches like Emotional Baggage and How to Get to Heaven, and even the final Christmas episode of Jack and Dean of All Trades had a more melancholy tone.
I think that shift just came with me maturing a bit, both as a person and as a storyteller. The things I was drawn to started to change—I moved away from the more cartoony stuff and towards something a little more grounded and emotional.
So yeah, I think that balance just evolved naturally over time. Interesting question, though—I don’t think I’d ever really stopped to think about how that mix works until now.”
Obviously you started on YouTube and now you’ve progressed onto Channel Four. What was this change like for and do you think YouTube is a good place to start as a young filmmaker?
“I think it’s a fabulous place to start. And honestly—and I don’t mean this in a dismissive way at all—I don’t even really see it as a progression. My mindset about it is just different from how the industry tends to view it. If you’re making stuff and putting it on YouTube or TikTok or wherever, and you’re making films, then you’re making films. The distribution method doesn’t matter to me.
I think I have a bit of a personal connection to that idea, because I’ve definitely felt in the past that some of what I’ve done wasn’t taken seriously simply because of the platform it was on. But as of this year, YouTube is the biggest platform in the world—it’s surpassed Netflix and everything else. So I think it’s a brilliant place to start as a filmmaker.
For me, it was an incredible space to not only learn the technical side of filmmaking, but also to do it in front of an audience—sometimes of millions. That was huge, because at the end of the day, I make things for people. When some people say, “I just make stuff for myself,” I get that, but I’m the opposite—I make things because I want to give people an experience, to entertain them.
So being able to make things in real time, in front of an audience, taught me so much about how people react—what lands, what doesn’t, how to shape moments that connect emotionally or comedically. I think that’s something a lot of filmmakers who didn’t have that kind of early audience maybe don’t get to experience.
So yeah, I’d say not only is YouTube a great place to start, but if you can find a way to make it sustainable, it’s an amazing place to stay.”
“the biggest obstacle, is your own brain telling you you’re not ready. That voice that says, I’ve got this great idea, but I’ll save it for when I’m better. I’d say don’t save it—just do it”
Do you have any advice for young filmmakers as well that want to get into this industry?
“I think it’s the simplest—and probably the most boring—answer, which is: just do it. There are more and more accessible ways to make films now. I mean, this year alone, 28 Years Later was shot on an iPhone. Obviously, they had big lenses and extra gear on theirs, but still—the point is, you already have an incredibly high-quality camera in your pocket.
My first film was shot on a flip phone. I had to transfer it to my computer and use some free conversion software that left a giant watermark right in the middle of the screen—but I didn’t care, because I was 15. Now, it’s so much easier to make something that actually looks good.
But I think the biggest obstacle, especially when you’re just starting out, is your own brain telling you you’re not ready. That voice that says, I’ve got this great idea, but I’ll save it for when I’m better. I’d say don’t save it—just do it. Get it out, learn from it, and don’t be afraid to be bad. You’re meant to be bad at first. You’ll copy your favorite filmmakers, you’ll make mistakes, and that’s fine—it’s all part of the process. The more you do, the more you’ll learn.
And also, do it for yourself first. You don’t have to show anyone right away. Make five or ten little films just to figure out if you actually enjoy making them—because that’s such a huge part of it. The truth is, once something’s finished, it stops being yours the moment you share it. So you have to love the process.
I’ve spent the last couple of years working to get this ten-minute short off the ground, and I’ve enjoyed every moment of it. So yeah—don’t be afraid to be bad, just do it, and make sure you actually enjoy making things. That’s the real key.”
In this film, you portray an LGBTQ+ couple. What inspired you to focus on their story?
“I don’t actually have a proper answer for that. It was just always two women in my head, and I don’t really know why. Maybe it’s because women express themselves better. There’s that Bo Burnham quote about Eighth Grade—when he was asked why he made it about a girl instead of a boy, he said something like, “When I looked up girls on YouTube, they were talking about their feelings, and boys were talking about video games.” I think that still kind of rings true.
There was also something about it that just felt like the best way to tell this story—especially with it being a mystery. I liked the idea that you might not know who these two women are to each other at first, and that the audience could interpret that in a few different ways before the truth becomes clear. That felt interesting to me from a purely storytelling point of view.
And then, looking back, I realized there’s another layer to it. If Caroline’s character had been a man, that sense of threat you feel at the start probably never would’ve gone away. The audience wouldn’t be able to relax into what the story is actually about. If you imagine an older man forcing his way into a café and being a bit obsessive about a younger woman—it would feel like a different film entirely. You’d never think, oh, this is actually quite sweet.
So in a lot of ways, it just made sense. And what’s been really lovely is hearing from LGBTQ+ audiences who’ve seen the film and appreciated that it features two queer characters—but the story isn’t about that. They just exist in the world, like anyone else.
That’s something I’d love to see more of. Like, I want to see Ocean’s Eleven where they just happen to be gay—who cares? Not every story about queer people has to be about the struggle. Of course those stories are important, but they don’t have to be every story. Sometimes they can just be.“
“If Caroline’s character had been a man, that sense of threat you feel at the start probably never would’ve gone away. The audience wouldn’t be able to relax into what the story is actually about.”
I found it quite difficult to tell when the film is set. Elle’s character is dressed in this old style diner uniform. Then Caroline’s character is dressed more modern. Was it intentional to not know when it’s set?
“Absolutely, yeah. It probably wasn’t as definitive at first, but because of the nature of the story—since we’re essentially making a kind of time-bending narrative—I wanted the world to feel a bit timeless. In the script, I actually described it as “a timeless café,” like one of those old greasy spoons that’s been there forever and never really changes—and why would it?
My costume designer found the shirt that Hannah wears as the waitress, and at first, we were looking at more American diner-style references. But it started to feel like it was leaning too much that way. A few people have mentioned Twin Peaks to me, which is an incredible compliment—I mean, being compared to David Lynch in any capacity, I’ll take that! But yeah, I wanted the whole thing to have this slightly dreamy, out-of-time feeling.
It’s that sense of, maybe it feels like the eighties—but then someone has an iPhone. Hannah’s wearing a waitress uniform people don’t really wear anymore, and Caroline’s got this pink coat that feels a bit vintage. There’s a mix of eras in there. And part of that was purely practical too: I needed the audience to immediately understand who these characters are. There’s a kind of visual shorthand or iconography to their outfits that tells you a lot before they even speak.
So yeah, it was all thought about, but not in a “we’re setting it in this exact time period” kind of way. I always thought of it as modern day—but we included details that make you pause and think, wait, when is this? I love that it has that effect.
And actually, that ties into something I really believe about filmmaking—that you should offer things to the audience, even if some of those choices are instinctive. Viewers will always interpret them in their own way. I remember being in school and someone asking, “Miss, is the curtain red because it symbolizes passion, or is it just red?” And honestly, I think both can be true. Every decision—whether instinctive or deliberate—is there for a reason, even if the filmmaker doesn’t fully understand it at the time.
Because once the film’s out there, it belongs to the audience. Even if I know why something’s there, you’re going to see something different—and that’s the beauty of it. I was actually talking about this recently on a podcast with Mark Kermode, and he said, “Trust the story, not the teller.” And I completely subscribe to that.”
I just have one more question what’s coming next for you what are you working on anything?
“What’s next? Ah, the dreaded question! I know, I’m sorry—people always ask it right after something you’ve just finished is released: “So, what’s next? What’s the next thing?”
Well, for now, we’re continuing with this in festivals and even taking a swing at the awards season—because why not? Maybe, just maybe, I’ll hold an Oscar at the end of it. Probably not, but you never know.
Beyond that, the plan has always been to try and make an impression so I can hopefully move into directing TV or take the leap into making my first feature. There are a few conversations happening at the moment that are very early days, but they feel promising. So, we’ll see. Fingers crossed, feature land is next.”
The Second Time Around is now streaming on Channel 4
Megan Hilborne (Instagram: meghillbilly) is a freelance writer and film critic based in Portsmouth. She graduated with a degree in Film in 2020 and has continued her study of the medium in her day-to-day life. She takes particular interest in indie, horror, feminist and queer cinema.
