This was the first narrative short I made out of film school. Basically what happened was I saw Joe Swanberg’s Nights And Weekends on Netflix (back when Netflix was low-key like that) and I thought: I can do that, but maybe about more down-to-earth (i.e. prairie) characters that aren’t completely insufferable in every way! So I called up Trina Lister, a young improviser I had met at the inaugural FAVA Fest gala a few months earlier and the only person I knew who I thought would be wild and spontaneous enough to spend all of August trying to make a movie with me. It was conceived as something that would be feature-length; Treen and I sketched out the story arc, outlined all the scenes, and then we improvised the dialogue when we shot. We shot about half of it ourselves with the camera on a tripod and wireless microphones, and the other half was shot by my dear friend Aerlan Barrett who jury-rigged a Frankensteinian shoulder rig out of an old photo tripod and followed us around with my 7D and the only two lenses I owned. I flew my friend Dayleigh Nelson out from Vancouver on points so he could come play with us for a few days…where he came up with that bit about Mary Elizabeth Winstead I will never know. I still vividly remember Dayleigh crashing on my couch and spending an entire day watching three movies back to back (one of them was definitely Visconti’s The Leopard, but I can’t remember the other two…).

Even though we shot more than enough to cut something feature-length, I ended up chopping it down to 22 minutes, basically the “greatest-hits” of everything we had. It just wouldn’t have worked as a feature…there wasn’t enough story happening and the dynamism of Aerlan’s handheld camerawork was so much more engaging than all the static stuff we had shot ourselves that essentially it rendered it obsolete. For these reasons, this learning process, and so much more, making this movie was formative. It won the Outstanding Short Film award at FAVA Fest the following year, the first time I had ever received any recognition from my peers. It remains an incredible time capsule, and the spirit in which it was made, the “just grab a camera and go” attitude of freedom and exuberance, is something I feel I’m perpetually longing for and trying to get back to.

Hope you’re having a great one wherever you are. And wherever you are: I encourage you to grab a camera, grab a few friends, and go make something. Go see what happens. I dare you.


RETROSPECTIVE : “Oh, The Wind Will Blow”

Hey all,

It’s an unprecedented era of uncertainty for a lot of people right now. For me, it’s a pretty precedented era of uncertainty; not knowing what I’m going to be doing next month or even next week is pretty much SOP at this point.

I empathize deeply for those who have been directly affected by the pandemic either through loss of life, illness, or fear. For myself — and I think for a lot of creative people — this pause in the global hustle has brought an opportunity to re-prioritize and re-focus. Correspondingly, I’ve been able to carry out a re-invention that I’d been planning for a few months. The new moniker Nnett Rhys brings with it an opportunity to keep my art life a bit more separate from my personal life, a separation that was very much needed, an escape from the Instagram-fuelled rat race of personal brands that can insidiously distort reality.

But, at the risk of sounding distressingly cliché: you can’t know where you’re going if you don’t know where you’ve been. So I’ve decided to re-emerge from a few months of internet silence by going back through my near decade’s worth (!) of previous work and selectively highlighting some of my favourite projects.

So we start at the very beginning, with Oh, The Wind Will Blow. The first music video I ever made. The first music video I was ever asked to make! Still one of my favourite projects after all these years, Doug’s lovingly sincere ballet with a car lamp (and homage to David Byrne’s performance of “This Must Be The Place” in Stop Making Sense) continues to warm my heart. I love the simplicity of the concept and the effectiveness of our execution. Shot on my trusty old Canon 7D — the camera that defined my entry into making little movies — at FAVA’s exhibition suite in the old Ortona Armoury where so, so, so, much bizarre and beautiful work has happened. Nothing but great memories associated with this one. Thank you, Doug, for giving me my start!

Hope you enjoy this and above all: hope that you are well!

Until next time,

– Nn


For the last year or so, I’ve sat on the Programming Committee at The Metro Cinema in Edmonton. This month, I had the opportunity to curate a mini-retrospective of the films of John Cassavetes, five of which are available in DCP for the first time. Of the five, we were ultimately able to screen three in July. I selected my three favourites: Faces (1968), A Woman Under The Influence (1974), and Opening Night (1977). It’s been a real thrill, a chance to express my enthusiasm for this pioneering director whose filmmaking and attitude towards art-making in general are a consistent source of inspiration for me.

At the recommendation of the head programmer at Metro, I’ve been introducing the screenings to give people a bit of context and expound my love for these unique movies. This is my introduction for Faces.


Hello, I’m Dylan Rhys Howard. I’m an independent filmmaker here in Edmonton. I do a lot of commercials. The one where the little dog chases the covered wagon underneath the kitchen sink? That one was mine.

First of all, thank you all for coming out and supporting our local community cinema. The Metro Cinema Society is a not-for-profit organization that prides itself on offering a diverse array of films, from the best of Hollywood to what I guess we would call World Cinema (isn’t it all World Cinema?), back to Silent Cinema and everything in between. I hope you all agree that by coming out and sharing a movie together in a space like this, in open defiance of the on-demand culture of streaming everything, we create a unique artistic experience each and every time, an experience that is much less disposable and much more celebratory.   

“Art. Meaning we will enjoy ourselves and expresses ourselves freely.” This quotation, accompanied by a picture of John Cassavetes, was my desktop background for years while I was making my first films. It’s a definition of art you don’t hear very often, and it’s one that I keep coming back to: the idea that art should be about joy, especially, is perhaps more important than ever, because we tend to think about it as this grave and solemn responsibility — likely because we’ve so firmly entangled it with commerce —- and we need to remember art’s inherent ability to create connection and wonder. 

Probably best known as an actor in films like The Dirty Dozen or Rosemary’s Baby, John Cassavetes was also one of the most dynamically independent filmmakers in the history of American movies. Eschewing the Hollywood system and self-financing many of his films allowed Cassavetes to achieve complete creative control and ostensibly create a new kind of cinema that he explicitly stated over and over was not about entertainment. Not even about story, necessarily. So what was it about? Expression. A fanatical belief that film has the potential to record and preserve the beauty and tragedy of human emotional experience, and that indeed it is the responsibility of filmmakers to concern themselves with this endeavour above all else.

While it’s fairly common now, in the digital era, for people like me to pick up a DSLR for 1500 bucks and start making movies with my friends, I can’t stress enough how radical it was in the ‘60s for someone to shoot and edit an entire feature film on 16mm in their house. We’re talking about hundreds of thousands of dollars, in 1960s dollars, just to create an image.  How dedicated you’d have to be…how fundamentally convinced that this craft, this record of human experience, was worth giving your whole life to.

The film we’re seeing tonight, Faces, is Cassavetes second feature length film. Shot on black and white 16mm film stock over a period of months mostly, as I alluded to, at the house where Cassavetes and his wife Gena Rowlands (who plays Jeanie) lived, the film plunges us into the malaise and ennui of a middle class Los Angeles couple who are reaching their breaking point. Simply put: this is a film about love, as all of JC’s films are films about love. The name of this series, A Study Of Love, comes from a documentary excerpt where John says:

I don’t think a person can live without a philosophy. Philos in Greek means “friend or love.” They’re synonymous. And any “ophy” is “the study of.” So it’s the study of love, and to have a philosophy is to know how to love, and to know where to put it… So I guess every picture we’ve ever done has been in a way to find some kind of a philosophy for the characters…and that’s why I have a need for the characters to analyze love, discuss it, kill it, destroy it, hurt each other, do all that stuff, in that war — in that word polemic and picture polemic of what life is…I have a one-track mind…all I’m interested in is love.

The dialogue in this film was not improvised, as is often misreported. The actors worked very faithfully from a script written by John. What is improvised is the blocking, the way the actors move within the frame. This, combined with the handheld camera work, gives the film a very loose style, like documentary yet somehow more impressionistic, that I think many people have tried to imitate but never quite matched; no one can push themselves quite as far outside the limits of the craft of conventional photography (the rule of thirds and so on). Fascinating how when one attempts to eschew the aesthetic conventions of traditional filmmaking, one ends up inevitably inventing a new set of conventions. A piece of technical trivia about this film that occasionally gives me nightmares (any editors in the house?): the location sound recorder they used during the shoot was really old, and the tape slowed down over time. So as they rolled these long long takes for these long long scenes, the sound would gradually fall out of sync with the film. Cassavetes went to every professional sound post-production house in LA and they all told him it was going to be impossible to sync the sound back up perfectly, that he’d have to reshoot the entire movie. But he wouldn’t accept that and instead spent months staying up late in his garage excruciatingly re-syncing the audio frame by frame. You can tell there are still a few moments, particularly in the parlour scenes with Jeanie and the two men, that are far from perfect. But I hope you’ll all join me in suspending my disbelief for these moments.

The film was nominated for three Oscars in 1968: Best Original Screenplay; Best Supporting Actress for Lynn Carlin, in her first ever acting role, as Maria Forst, the chain-smoking housewife; and Best Supporting Actor for Seymour Cassel for his role as “Chet,” the mischievous hustler.

Finally, I messaged my favourite film critic, A.S Hamrah (check out his book The Earth Dies Streaming, it is some terrific film writing) and asked what he would tell a room full of people about to watch Faces. He wrote back: “I’d clear up the idea that’s it’s all improvised [check!]. I’d emphasize that it’s in black-and-white [check?]. I’d relate it to the breakdown in society reflected in events in the US in 1968, a mood of violent confusion Cassavetes and his actors captured before the fact in the film’s portrayal of a seemingly successful middle-class American couple. [articulated by A S much better than I could!]”

My friend Aerlan Barrett , who introduced me to Cassavetes’ work, had this to say: “Faces doesn’t pander. It doesn’t exposit. Nobody says what they feel but they communicate everything that they are. It doesn’t try to BE something it IS something. It’s about failure. It’s about narcissism. It’s about delusion. It’s about lying to yourself most of all. It’s about youth. It’s about age. Most of all, it’s about letting go. It’s screaming at you. Let go. Please, Trust me. Just let go.”

Thank you all for being here, and I really hope you enjoy the film. If anything about the movie speaks to you, please send me an email about it. You can find everything about me at Thank you!



If you’re in Edmonton, please consider coming to see A Woman Under The Influence on Saturday, July 20th at 6:30 PM and/or Wednesday, July 24th at 9 PM at The Metro Cinema.

Until next time.

Dylan – Edmonton, AB