DIRECTOR DUO ELAN AND RAJEEV DASSANI DISCUSS THEIR NEW MOVIE EVIL EYE
by ASJAD NAZIR
WHETHER it was the gripping story or South Asian protagonists, there are a lot of unique things about recently released Hollywood horror film Evil Eye.
The powerful Amazon Prime drama also has the unique directing team of twin brothers Elan Dassani and Rajeev Dassani, who have crafted an edge-of-the-seat film. Both have worked on high-profile projects and jointly used all that experience in the story of a mother, who is concerned her daughter may be dating the reincarnation of her own dead abusive lover.
Eastern Eye caught up with rapidly rising filmmaking stars Elan and Rajeev Dassani to find out more.
Tell us about Evil Eye?
Elan:Evil Eye is a new psychological horror film from Blumhouse and features an all-South Asian cast. This is a universal story about a mother and daughter with a contentious relationship, which could cost them everything. It's a psychological thriller and makes a broad statement about assumptions we make about loved ones, what defined them in the past, and how, ultimately, we have to be there for ones we love.
What was the biggest challenge of making the movie?
Rajeev: The main challenge was taking an audio play entirely on phone calls, with everything presented via sound and dialogue, and making it work as a visual and cinematic story. We did that by leaning more heavily on flashback and surrealistic sequences, to help us better understand what Usha went through when she was younger, but also to help use intense visuals to put us into her head space. That way, we could get a better sense of her mental state in a visceral way.
How does working as a team feel?
Rajeev: It's really beneficial. We always have someone to bounce ideas off, someone who will be totally honest and help improve our ideas. Our tastes are similar, but when we disagreed it helped us understand what was really important about each decision and scene.
Elan: It was great in the sense that Rajeev and I trust each other implicitly and are honest with each other, which is really useful when trying to create a movie like this. In that sense, I know Rajeev always has my back. The difficulty, of course, is that sometimes we disagree and have to find a way to resolve differences even though we are equal on set. Inevitably, the differences usually come down to something specific, and we end up with an even better solution.
How do you handle creative differences?
Rajeev: We would work to make sure we understood why each of us believed in something by justifying it, and that helped us fight harder for the very best way to make each choice.
How does the dynamic of two directors work?
Elan: (Laughs) On set we had to choose who would say “action" first! We tried every other take, and that worked terribly. It was confusing and weird. Then we alternated scenes, and that worked well, as we could each focus on scenes we were in charge of. When talking to actors, we were always equal, throwing out suggestions, as we see a set as a place of collaboration with everyone, especially the actors. We welcome all ideas from each other, the crew, and the actors.
Who are you hoping will connect with the film?
Elan: We’re hoping anybody who has ever loved someone and was fearful of their choices connects with this movie. This is really about that primal fear of being helpless and far away when someone else is in danger, which is even more powerful than fear for yourself. We also hope it connects with anyone who has experienced domestic abuse, as this film is a way to connect with the insidious psychological nature of domestic abusers of all stripes. Finally, we hope it connects with anyone traditionally underrepresented in films and TV – there are so many ways to tell their stories, and we hope to contribute to that.
How important was it to get the cast right?
Rajeev: The casting was critical because it was dependent on quite long and dramatic scenes, where performance was everything. We loved our cast, Sarita (Choudhury) for example brought complexity and nuance to an Indian mom’s character, which is often very one-note in most other films. Her character has this complex, violent, sexual past, and Sarita's incredible talent, complemented that well, automatically providing a deeper context.
What is your own favourite moment?
Elan: My own favorite scene is when Usha and Krishnan discuss her hiring a detective, because the scene delves into Usha’s psyche and obsession. I love this scene as the acting and writing is so strong, which just makes my job easy.
Rajeev: It’s a small moment, but I love when Usha tells Krishnan, "what does it matter how much it costs" in reference to the private detective – she’s so frustrated, because for her it’s life and death, and for him, he’s worried about money because he doesn’t believe her. It’s honest and real, and they play their different perspective so well off one another.
What can we next expect from you?
Elan: We’re exploring many projects, largely in the genre space, as we love horror and sci-fi that can be a mirror to society and show us something we're both unfamiliar with, and yet completely identity with. We’d love to make a movie like Get Out or Split; something that thrills, horrifies and leaves audiences thinking something profound about themselves.
Why should we watch Evil Eye?
Rajeev: We think it’s really a unique story; a thriller that uses South Asian culture both in India and America, speaks to primal themes of wanting the best for those we love and worrying about them when they are in danger, and uses these fascinating concepts of reincarnation to speak to something deeper about domestic abuse and trauma. And it wraps all of that in a fun supernatural thriller – we love that it can do both, be satisfying as a thriller, but also speak to those deeper themes. That makes it a unique watch.
Jay's grandma’s popcorn from Gujarat is now selling out everywhere.
Ditched the influencer route and began posting hilarious videos online.
Available in Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala, all vegan and gluten-free
Jayspent 18 months on a list. Thousands of names. Influencers with follower counts that looked like phone numbers. He was going to launch his grandmother's popcorn the right way: send free bags, wait for posts, pray for traction. That's the playbook, right? That's what you do when you're a nobody selling something nobody asked for.
Then one interaction made him snap. The entitlement. The self-importance. The way some food blogger treated his family's recipe like a favour they were doing him. He looked at his spreadsheet. Closed it. Picked up his phone and decided to burn it all down.
Now he makes videos mocking the same people he was going to beg for help. Influencers weeping over the wrong luxury car. Creators demanding payment for chewing food on camera. Someone having a breakdown about ice cubes. And guess what? The internet ate it up. His popcorn keeps selling out. And from Gujarat, his grandmother's 60-year-old recipe is now moving units because her grandson got mad enough to be funny about it.
Jay’s grandma’s popcorn from Gujarat is now selling out everywhere Instagram/daadisnacks
The kitchen story
Daadi means grandmother in Hindi. Jay's daadi came to America from Gujarat decades ago. Every weekend, she made popcorn with the spices she grew up with, including cardamom, cinnamon, and chilli mixes. It was her way of keeping home close while living somewhere that didn't taste like it.
Jay wanted that in stores. Wanted brown faces in the snack aisle. It didn’t happen overnight. It took a couple of years to get from a family recipe to something they could actually sell. Everyone pitched in, including his grandmom, uncle, mum. The spices come from small local farmers. There are just two flavours for now, Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala. It’s all vegan and gluten-free, packed in bright bags that instantly feel South Asian.
The videos don't look like marketing. They look like someone venting at 11 PM after scrolling too long. He nails the nasal influencer voice. The fake sympathy. “I can’t believe this,” he says in that exaggerated influencer tone, “they gave me the cheaper car, only eighty grand instead of one-twenty.” That clip alone blew up, pulling in close to nine million views.
Most people don't know they're watching a snack brand. They think it's social commentary. Jay never calls himself an influencer. He says he’s a creator, period. There’s a difference, and he makes sure people know it. His TikTok has around three hundred thousand followers, Instagram about half that. The comments read like a sigh of relief, people fed up with fake polish, finally hearing someone say what everyone else was thinking.
This fits into something called deinfluencing; people pushing back against the buy-everything-trust-nobody cycle. But Jay's version has teeth. He's naming names, calling out the economics. Big venture money flows to chains with good lighting. Family businesses with actual stories get ignored because their content isn't slick enough.
Jay watched his New York neighbourhood change. Chains moved in. Influencers posted about places that had funding and were aesthetic. The old spots, the family ones, got left behind. His videos are about that gap. The erosion of local culture by money and aesthetics.
"Big chains and VC-funded businesses are promoted at the expense of local ones," he said. His content doesn't just roast influencers. It promotes other small food makers who can't afford to play the game. He positions Daadi as a defender of something real against something plastic.
And it's working. Not just philosophically. Financially. The videos drive traffic. People click through, try the popcorn, come back. The company can't keep stock. That's the proof.
Daadi popcorn features authentic Gujarat flavours like Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala, all vegan and gluten-free Daadi Snacks
The blowback
People unfollow because they think he's too harsh. Jay's take: "I would argue I need to be meaner."
In May, he posted that he's not chasing content creation money like most people at his follower count. "I post to speak my mind and help my family's snack biz." That's a different model. Most brands pay influencers to make everything look perfect. They chase viral polish, and Jay does the opposite. In fact, he weaponises rawness and treats criticism like a product feature.
The internet mostly backs him. Reddit threads light up with support. One commenter was "toxic influencers choking on their matcha lattes searching their Balenciaga bags." Another: "Influencers are boring and unoriginal and can get bent." The anger is shared. Jay simply gave it a microphone and a snack to buy.
Jay's success says something about where things are going. People are done with curated perfection. They can smell the artificiality now. They respond to brands that feel like humans rather than committees. Daadi doesn't sell aspiration. Doesn't sell a lifestyle. Sells popcorn and a point of view.
The quality matters, including the spices, the sourcing, and the family behind it. But the edge matters too. He’s not afraid to say what most brands tiptoe around. “We just show who we are,” Jay says. “No pretending, no gloss. People can feel that and that’s when they reach for the popcorn.”
Most small businesses can't afford to play the traditional game. Can't pay influencers. Can't hire agencies. Can't fake their way into feeds. Maybe they don't need to. Maybe honesty and humour can cut through if they're sharp enough. If the product backs it up. If the story is real and the person telling it isn't trying to sound like a PR script.
This started with a list Jay didn't use. The business took off the moment he stopped trying to play by the usual rules and started speaking his mind. Turns out, honesty sells. And yes, the popcorn really does taste good.
Daadi Snacks merch dropInstagram/daadisnacks
The question is whether this scales. Whether other small businesses watch this and realise they don't need to beg for attention from people who don't care. Right now, Daadi keeps selling out. People keep watching. The grandmother's recipe that was supposed to need influencer approval is doing fine without it. Better than fine. Turns out the most effective marketing strategy might just be giving a damn and not being afraid to show it.
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