Meet Judah Ray of A-Level Pictures in Hollywood

Today we’d like to introduce you to Judah Ray.

Judah, let’s start with your story. We’d love to hear how you got started and how the journey has been so far.
I was born to produce and create. My first event, a rave named “Where The Wild Things Are”, was in 1995, which shaped a path for years to come. As I organized WTWTA, then in the first days of Adobe, I couldn’t find anyone that had the artistic vision I required for my promotional flyers, so I found a computer and taught myself graphic design. After some years of Producing events, I had become a major player in the dance music event industry, working in the same field as players like Arty Parent, and Pascual Rotella, while becoming a sought-after Designer, spun records under the DJ name, Ghettoblaster, and even handled talent as a Manager. At the same time, I took up photography, and shot glamour models, along with campaigns for companies like Nokia, and One Model Place. It was exciting and fun. I loved the thrill, excitement, and rush of Production. During that time, I produced over 100 underground raves, and clubs, along with a plethora of special events. Then, I found myself in my mid-twenties, over being wasted, and surrounded by the young kids who attended these parties. I didn’t want to be a fifty-year-old man who throws underground raves. I knew there had to be something different. Producing one event is the same as another, just different circumstances, and I had spent so many years producing, I didn’t want to throw that all away. So, I turned my eyes on 21+ club, and event production; afterparties, galas, and special occasion soirées. I did this into my mid-twenties when I realized it wasn’t just the age of the attendees, but event production life, that wasn’t what I wanted to do. That’s when I decided it was time to make another change. My destiny was calling.

I am an insomniac, since birth. I used to only need an hour of sleep every night. Thankfully that changed into my mid-thirties, and now I can get a good four to five hours in before I snap awake. My parents told me, as a child, they would be driven crazy, as I never would go to sleep. So, at a young age, I was given a television in my room, with cable and a VCR. Through this, I found a love for movies. I would watch anything, and everything, I wanted. I sought out VHS and watched Animal House, Full Metal Jacket, Papillon, Sixteen Candles, Nightmare On Elm Street, from studio films like Clockwork Orange, to B Flicks, like the Toxic Avenger, you name it! By the time I lived with my mother, who had a strict curfew, I would watch USA UP All Night, with Rhonda Shears and Gilbert Gottfried, two B-films, back-to-back, and then Movies Til Dawn, until I could finally fall asleep. Throughout my life, I have watched an extensive amount of films. I decided to stop producing events and start producing film. My thought process was easy, in an event, I get a location, in a film I do the same. In an event, I book a DJ, in a film it’s an Actor. In the end, the job is the same, you bring a group of people together, to produce a creative product, to entertain the public, and make a profit margin for your investors. But I had no idea how to make a movie!

The transition was hard, but thankfully, I had graphic design to keep me alive along the way, though I barely made it month to month. I lived in little, old apartments, with terrible roommates, as I looked for a way in. The internet wasn’t what it is today, and there was no easy way to read or watch videos, about filmmaking. Considering, as a child, I wasn’t big on school, I decided to work on set, and learn as I did in the event industry, by experience. My first jobs on set were for free, as a Production Assistant. I would slave fourteen-hour days, and then come home to graphic design work, so I could eat. Then, one lucky day, on the set of Spiritual Warriors, working for Jsu Garcia, the Art Department needed help. By the end of the day, I was in front of the Producer, as he was told by the Production Designer, he was stealing me into the Art Department. That lasted for a couple of weeks, until one fateful day, they needed someone to drive the two-ton camera truck, from LA to Utah. I drove through the night, by myself, over the Rocky Mountains, in a storm, with winds that tried to blow the huge, box truck, which had over $1M in equipment in it, and I, over the edge, into the pitch-black canyon to my side, for $50 a day.

Though, after that, I was a paid crew member, which I carried on to my next jobs. I worked in everything I could; PA, Art, Grip, Transport, Crafty, Wardrobe, even Make-Up and Hair. Any job I could find, they would pay me anything to do, that I could use to learn the art of filmmaking. One day, I was working on a movie, up in Santa Clarita, doing Art, and driving along in a golf cart, with another person from the Department. We were talking, as we passed an old abandoned set, in which sat a dilapidated, and really spooky looking, house. I told him that I was a Producer, and I wanted to transition from events into film. He was a film school grad, who wanted to direct. I told him, all we need is a house, and we could film a horror movie. I went on, that I knew a person with a house, and for years had raised money for events. We began development on my first movie, One Among Us.

I had no idea what I had gotten myself into. I had secured a Director, but no idea how to write a screenplay. So, my Director got a friend, from back home, who aspired to be a screenwriter, to get us a script, based on an idea I had, and I set out to raise the money. I got enough funds to secure our talent, and pay for the first week of principle, which I put into an account. We shot the first week, of a seven-week production, and I was out of money. To be honest, I had written more checks than my account could cash. I went out that weekend, to the clubs around Los Angeles, and spent every night, talking up my film, and how I had been shooting for a week, and how amazing it would be, and brought people to set, all to get my next investor, who gave me a check, that barely covered my next week’s expenses, which I would have at the bank, the second they opened, to deposit, in order to ensure no one on my set tried to cash their checks, only to have them bounce, and to return to work, if they even came, to complain, and tell everyone they weren’t paid. I successfully did this, every weekend, for seven weeks, and completed the film, despite the fact that I was constantly told, from friends to seasoned crew, that the film would never see a wrap. I found myself, after the post and sale, completely exhausted, and over indie film making. I decided to join the studio system, and got a job from Eli Samaha, in the MGM towers. I was given a desk, with a computer and a phone, and told to make movies. Mentally exhausted, burnt from the film I had made, and disturbed by the business model film had at the time, I once again decided I was not happy where I was, and looked for something else I desired to do.

At this time, Medical Marijuana laws had passed in California, and I was completely off of the hard drugs, but I still smoked. Medical Cannabis Dispensaries began popping up around the city of Los Angeles. Being out of the drug and party scene, I barely knew where to get my marijuana. A doctor of mine, who knew of my history with sleep, prescribed me a medical license, and I began to visit these establishments. I discovered a Cousin owned one, and so did a friend. I began to stick around and see how cannabis helped people. I wanted to give back to the world and had always been into the idea of philanthropy. This was instilled at a young age, when my Mom would take us to stranger’s homes, who had nothing, on Holidays, to share food and comforts. I had found my next calling. My first shop was with a couple of my Father’s friends. Within a couple of months, I had a falling out with them and was left with nothing. But I had set up the entire place, from buildout to operations, and I decided to open my own dispensary. I found an investor and bought this tiny shop.

Within the first few months, a patient came in, and told me, “My doctor said I would be dead in six months, that was eight months ago. You and your shop are the reason I am alive.” It moved me so much that I went all in. Years after, I found myself the owner of a few Dispensaries around LA. Though, things were changing. Recreational Cannabis was on the horizon, my patients were more and more becoming those who didn’t need marijuana and a lot who, in my opinion, shouldn’t be smoking it. The passion I had for saving lives was being replaced by stoners out to get high. Couple that with the constant scare of legal repercussions around a business that was still lost in grey area, constant problems with theft, bad employees, overtaxing, and an all-out nightmare existence, I remembered what originally got me into the industry. I realized the money didn’t make me happy, the lavish lifestyle I was living wasn’t me, I was surrounded by people I didn’t like, doing something I didn’t want to do anymore. I needed to reassess my priorities.

Though the older you are, the harder it is to say, screw everything I have been working on, let’s go in another direction. I’m not going to lie; it was dark times. Making a change is scary, but I wasn’t as fearful of it, as I was living the rest of my life unhappy. So, I got out. I left everything, even walked away from one of the businesses with only the shirt on my back, and moved from my penthouse to a small apartment. I divorced, left my circle of friends, and found myself in an entirely new world. I wish I could say I was strong, and just turned my cheek, but for about a year, I got repulsively drunk every night. I found myself lost, with no idea where to go, and pushed through that until I found myself again. I thought I love Producing, I’m good at it, and I love film. I decided that I was going back to school, to learn film production, get a degree, go back into the studio system, do the suit and tie job, and that will be my life. And at thirty-four years old, I went back to school.

Now, being I had only passed a proficiency test, and not even a GED, going to UCLA or such, was out of the question. Not that I could afford it. I had left everything behind and had only a small amount of cash saved up, from my pay as an employee, for a not-for-profit business, and a small amount of stock in the exchange I had from years before, along with a car. I found myself at the Los Angeles Film School, in the film program. It was an interesting time. I discovered that I had a love for learning, and even for school. Being so high as a kid, I must have overlooked my joy in it. I applied myself to the program. Complete dedication, no job, no relationships, no drinking, no partying, no life… only friends from my program, and classwork. I slaved around the clock, sleeping a couple of hours a night, and pushed myself to make sure I completed everything, and anything, my classes required. I fought my teachers to teach me, wrote my program Board Of Directors, a seven-page letter, on how to improve the program, pushed every student I could find to work with me to excel. Halfway through my program, I started Directing and Screenwriting courses. I discovered how lenses told stories, and how lighting shaped emotion. I started realizing how those tools lent to how a story was told, and how a screenplay could become a world.

As a child, I wrote poetry, with some even published, and had tried my hand at screenwriting, in my late teens, with a neighbor with no industry connections, or knowledge about the system at the time, and went nowhere. But now I understood why. I had no clue how to write, only good ideas. After I was taught to work with Actors, and Cinematographers, to tell those stories, I was mesmerized, and I fell in love. This was all the art of producing, without the business of it. Bringing elements together to tell a story. I left Producing, though in today’s Industry a Writer has to produce, to a point, and turned my focus towards creative. I worked night and day on my studies, and it took all my time, and money, to do it. I sold my car, liquidated my stocks, got a roommate, and was on my last dime, by the time graduation came around. I was eating fast food and was so lonely. I had forgotten that I had sworn off dating, and was coming down hard on myself for who, and what, I was. Then, I graduated, with a 4.0 GPA, both blue and yellow tassels, and was awarded, for the first time in the school’s history, a Valedictorian medal of honor. There I was; broke, alone, living a day-to-day survival life, and I’m standing with my family in the crowd, waiting to get my honors. My Mom sees my class go up, and a few students before me stop their speeches, to thank me, for believing in them, pushing them to complete the course, and helping them succeed. Then I go up, to accept my honors and diploma. It was one of the greatest moments of my life. Afterwards, a man approaches me, introduces himself as Joseph A. Logli, and tells me he missed his morning graduation, so he had to come to the afternoon one, which was mine. He saw the other classmates thank me, that I was awarded the Valedictorian honor, and informed he wanted to work with people like me. He hands me a card and tells me if I ever need him, just to call.

I had a couple of short screenplays, some terribly written feature scripts, and a short film, my student thesis, which had won an award, in Transylvania. Then it began, with a request from Radical Studios, that I work on their next film’s screenplay, for a feature film franchise, named Abattior, by Darren Lynn Bousman. That got people taking me seriously as a writer. Still, no one would read me. Getting Hollywood to read you is like banging your head against the wall, and expecting people to listen to what you have to say. No one wants to read. Everyone wants to see a proof of concept. Against my will, I stepped up, as a Producer, again. I took one of my short screenplays, found a few people who loved the idea, and rallied them behind it, somehow talked an investor into backing it, in exchange for a small role. Being from a Producer’s background, I started preproduction, and got everything in order, until I found out my sound guy had to back out. I then remembered the guy I had met at my graduation and had my Production Manager call him in. Joseph drove up from San Diego, for free, and recorded the scenes. As we wrapped the first day, the producers came up, told me they loved the script, and what I was doing, and that it deserved to be a feature. Then, Joseph approaches me and informs me the passion he saw as I directed, and the art he saw produced, is what he wants to work on, and that he wanted to work with me. That was the start of a whole new friendship, both business and personal, as I decided to take him under my wing, and bring him into A-Level Pictures, the studio I was starting.

The plan was to build a slate of films, based around the scripts I had written. Being that I was ready to move from production to creative, I needed a producer. We decided that I would Produce, and along the way, teach Joeseph how the job was done. Then, once he understood how to make a film, I would pass the torch completely, and step over to the creative side. I dug into my writing and began polishing my screenwriting skills while pumping out script after script. I discovered I had a knack for writing fast. I could churn out a quality first draft, in under two weeks. I began submitting these scripts to festivals, and they were winning! Every festival that a screenplay would win, we would attend. Our deal was, at these events, we would push my screenplays, and I would show Joseph how to produce a film. As we toured the festival circuit, I would be on top of things, and pushing the ideas of being a Producer on him, the diligence and persistence, but it wasn’t sticking. Then, at one festival, when I sat him down to go over a Producer’s priorities, and that I need him to show up at the first chance of networking the next day, he informs me that he’s met someone. A financier, who invited him to his house. At that moment we had the epiphany, that he was better at finding the money to make movies, than the people to make them with.

I focused on screenwriting, while Joseph focused on finding us financing. Along the way we have acquired the life rights, to tell the story of John Horton, a seventeen-year-old boy, convicted of a murder he didn’t commit, based on a confession he was forced to sign while looking down the barrel of a detective’s handgun, the people who believed in him, and their two and a half-decade struggle to set him free. I had also amassed fourteen feature screenplays, and one short script, which was first developed in class, at school. My screenplays kept winning honors. At the time, I was winning an award almost every week. Sometimes multiple. I live in a building, which has a jacuzzi, that I would go to, every night, to unwind. There, I met a neighbor, Charles Lutman, who did the same. On the many nights we talked, I would bring up all the awards, or festivals, I was going to. Being in entertainment, clubs and music, his entire life, Charles always had an interest in film. One night, the day after I banged out a screenplay in six days, I pitched it to him. He greenlit the project on that seventh day.
Fast forward to today. I have over eighty-two honors. Charles and I have two feature films, both psychological, thriller, horror films, which I wrote, and he produced, nearing completion. The first, DNA, is in production and completes shooting, soon. The other, If She Screams, is in final postproduction. After a couple of years on the festival circuit, Joseph has blossomed as an Executive Producer and helped raised the money for my directorial debut, which I also wrote; Making Peace. The film is in postproduction, and I plan on touring the festival circuit with it, before its release. Two more feature film screenplays, which I wrote, are in development. Shabu, the true story of an innocent mother, in the Philippians, who becomes a hitwoman, and goes on a vigilante mission to get her kids back, from the cartel who killed her husband, and the other, a female driven, psychological drama, Unorthodox, which has a thrilling twist.

Today, I am back to a loving and happy life, what I do, and living comfortably. I have realized what makes me happy, and what I need to be, achieve, and have, to stay that way. I live in a wonderful place, have a fantastic girl in my life, never go a day hungry, stay healthy working out, and am pushing forward into living the dream.

Great, so let’s dig a little deeper into the story – has it been an easy path overall and if not, what were the challenges you’ve had to overcome?
I was born in May 1978, around the time hippies became yuppies. My Mother, who had lived at Graceland, the wife of Elvis’ Hairstylist and Spiritual Advisor, by that time, was a full-blown Christian, who stayed the former, and my Father, who loved telling stories of parties in Laurel Canyon, stumbling upon early Jim Morrison at the Whisky, and the years he did time, which resulted in him missing Woodstock, became the latter. There are six kids in my family. Three of them are my half-siblings, and the other two, full-blooded. No one in my family is in the Film Industry, except my older sister, who was never there to offer any help, not that I knew her at all. I’ve always loved film, but at a young age, I never imagined I would be making it. I wanted to be in Mergers and Acquisitions (after seeing Richard Gere in Pretty Woman), and was supposed to go to Pepperdine, have a Ferrari when I was sixteen, and live that privileged dream… but life has a way of working itself out.

I’ll admit, it was a lavish childhood, with fond memories of extravagant spending, with no recollection of what was going on, behind the veil of marriage. Though I do remember those interesting smells that wafted from my father’s closed doors, and times like a bus to summer camp, where I snorted fun dip from the candy stick. Then, there was the occasional beating, but as a kid, you don’t process those things in the right light. Playing as a center forward, I was told that balls hit me harder. You accept it. But it wasn’t until my parents split, that I started to notice the decline. My Father was a Contractor/Developer, who had helped turn a small town, the Santa Clarita Valley, into the City of Santa Clarita, through various developments he had made. When the marriage was over, he lived a rich life, in a four-story mansion on the hill, and a Mercedes in the driveway, while my Mom moved to a triple-wide mobile home, with a Suzuki Samurai, which we would lean forward in, thinking it would help the car go up hills. So, I grew up on both sides of the tracks. Weekdays with my father, shopping and sushi, and weekends with my Mother, in the Welfare lines, and eating soup, which helped me prepare for the years to come.

After the divorce, followed by my Grandfather’s passing, you can say things went downhill for my Father, who into my teens, I start to understand, has a drug and alcohol problem. My father was one of the wealthy, suburban white males, the news spoke about, falling victim to crack cocaine, in the mid-80s. Being a hardcore, belligerent, drunken alcoholic, didn’t help. Things went downhill from there; ugly, intoxication fueled rampages, delirious rants, some beatings, a daily grind of occasions, each capable of being their own tragic stage play. So, at around nine-years-old, not that it’s a surprise, being in the environment I was in, I began smoking marijuana. We were just one, big, crazy, family of drug addicts! By twelve, I was doing any narcotic I could get my hands on, and several at the same time; marijuana, LSD, speed, cocaine, you name it. I was never a big drinker. I was more into getting high. Needless to say, things went downhill, and fast. The mansion turned into a single-family home, the car was wrecked, the accounts were emptied, even my college fund. As my Dad went off the deep end, I was a mess of drugs and partying my teens away. Things only got worse from there.

My older sister disappeared first. She left the chaos and escaped to Bel Air, to live with my Grandmother, who showered her with luxury cars for her birthday, every year. Needless to say, she was spoiled with luxury, had the means to excel, and lived a good life. She was soon followed by my little brother, who fled to my Mother’s mobile home. He got on the right track, found the Lord, and became a die-hard Christian. I stayed at the house, where it was just my Dad and I. I think back to those times; a kid, ditching school, wasted daily on drugs, running with gangs and people twice his age, throwing parties every night, it blows my mind. I didn’t think I would live past my teenage years. All the while, my father’s situation became worse. The drugs took over. Have you ever been on LSD, and had your father burst into the room, as you’re on the way to a party with your friends, to tell you his dealer sold him bad drugs and thinks he’s going to die, then he makes you stay home and watch him, to make sure if he dies, someone is there? Or meet a prostitute, as she came into your house before you had a real girlfriend? I remember calling my Mom, after running away and begging her to come pick me up. She told me calmly, over the phone, which I now know must have hurt her heart so, that I chose to live with my Dad, that I knew to live with her would mean school and church, and that if I wanted to live with him, that these were the repercussions to my actions. A lesson I look back on, that I thank her for teaching me. But, as a kid, I wanted to do what I want, when I wanted, and so I stayed. She tried her best to help, in a way that would make a difference.

On multiple occasions, she would call Social Services, but Dad must have had someone on the inside. He would come home, and have everyone clean the house, stock the fridge, and clean up, right before the Social Services would knock on the door, and everything looked copasetic. Though not a day after they left, the house would be in full decay and look like a kid lived there alone, which one pretty much did. Though I will end this with, at least he was there. My Dad could have run off, and lived the life he was living, but he was there. Many will argue this, but I’d rather know my father, and accept him for who he is than have never known him at all, and not had a Dad when I needed one there. He might have been wasted, had his moments of insanity, but he was there when I knocked on the door. Well, until my mid-teens, when it all caught up with him.

My father ended up doing a couple of years of time, having had drug possessions charges pile up, one on top of the other, and while he was locked up, I stayed at the house; alone. With no supervision, I would throw parties every day and night. The day after, I would dig in the couches for change, and head to Del Taco for the dollar menu. After a few months, my Sister came to live with me, but that didn’t last long, as she was pregnant, and the power was shut off, then the water was shut off. Shortly after she left, a call came in, that the house was to be repossessed. Well, we had the grand idea of f—k the bank and demolished the place. We tore a hole through the wall, from the master bedroom to mine, took a baseball bat to any shelf we could find, and ripped the place apart. The next day, my Aunt called and told us the bank gave us more time, but it was too late. By the time the Social Services came, the place was a nightmare; destroyed, sink full of dishes, garage piled with dirty clothes, no electric, no water, just a boy and his dog. I was told that my only choices were a Boy’s home or my Mother’s.

So, I went to live with my Mom. It was nice, at first. I started going to school, had my own room, no more baths in the swimming pool, or nights by candlelight. Though, for a few months, I would stop by the old place, kick it with my dog, who now lived there alone, until I found him a new home, as the house was finally taken. After that, I really tried to conform, but I was a rebellious, drug-fueled, teen. I would sneak out at night, ditch school, and even smoke pot in my bedroom, which was decorated like a temple to drugs, complete with a wall covered in a collage, of cut-up Hightimes magazines, posters for bands, and cropped out letters, which spelled out words associated with drugs. My poor, Christian, loving Mom. She really put up with it, for as long as she could. But after coming into my room, moments after my sister had smoked in it, and discovering my bong, which had been dropped, and spilled, behind my bed, I was given an ultimatum. Either take down the drug wall, start going to school, and shape up, or ship out. So, at fourteen, I took it to the streets.

I lived homeless for a while. I would crash on the roof of my school, and wake to the morning bell. I’d hit gym class, and shower after, then start my day. I was smoking marijuana daily and had started a new habit; methamphetamines. Around the same time, my brother introduced me to these new parties, all-night “raves”. Though I was a little caught up, on trying to survive, to process what I had discovered. I needed to find a place to live, and my Dad had just been released from jail. Sober, and attempting to get his life back on track, he moved up to Santa Barbara, where my sister was attending school. My friends were all dying or going to jail. Meth was ruining my life, and I was spinning out of control. As a kid, the YMCA had sent me to a summer camp. Kind of a “send this poor kid away somewhere” thing. I had made a friend there, and she lived in SB, so I headed up there for a day, to visit her, my Sister, and see my Dad. I ended up staying, thinking I could run away from my problems with drugs, and the streets in LA. I was going to start fresh and new.

Santa Barbra showed me two things, one, you can’t run from your problems, and two, that drugs are everywhere. I fell into the same cycle that I was in, when I left LA. I found a new group of friends, who were also into raves and partying. Over the next couple of years, I watched a whole new group of friends discover methamphetamines. I spiraled further down, as I watched them die or go to jail. I’ll never forget the time, my Father drove me back down to LA, and after a speech on how I wasn’t going to ruin his sobriety, I cried to the song Yesterday, by the Beatles. I was done with the chaos and going to take control of my life.

I was dropped off in Los Angeles, at a drug rehab. They kicked me out within a couple of days. I was told I wasn’t any help for the others there, as I preached about not having to lose yourself, to become clean. So, I found myself back on the streets. Though, this time, I had a mission. I was attending a lot of raves and even started doing promotions for a 21+ club, named Magic Wednesdays. I would come in, every Wednesday, to clear the restaurant’s chairs and tables, to make room for a dance floor. Nothing beat the faces of big DJs when they found out a sixteen-year-old was working the show and doing drugs with them. I would crash on friends’ couches, or in seedy Hollywood motels. I even once lived behind the Seventh Veil Strip Club, in Hollywood. The owner of that wonderous establishment had rented an apartment to us. Us being seven teens, in a one-bedroom apartment. One of the roommates thought was a petting zoo, whereas there were snakes, cats, lizards, hamsters and rats. I had a small spot, on the side of the living room, where I would lay out a number of thin blankets, over the hardwood floor, which I would sleep on. I had no key. There was a small bay window, which was around nine feet from the ground, on the side of the apartment, that I would run and jump up to, grab the ledge, shove the window open, then snake and shimmy through it, falling to the floor, into a roll, to get inside. Then, I finally made some money off the events and got a job at a place called A&A Graphics, which afforded me a way out of the street life. At first, I would rent rooms, lying that I was a college student and needed a room. After being around the industry, and developing relationships, I began to understand how these raves were organized. I put together a small crew of friends, around a cause; to throw my first event. I didn’t even fathom that I was building a career. I just had an urge to throw these parties, and the Producer in me took over.

A-Level Pictures – what should we know? What do you do best? What sets you apart from the competition?
A-Level Pictures is a dream, which I started almost two decades ago. It’s more than just a company that makes films. It’s my life. It is an expression of me, and my view on existence, in many forms.

Films like Pulp Fiction, Snatch, KIDS, and others from my era, were being replaced by the studio system’s idea of what would sell, driven by formulaic stories, and star power. My goal was to create a studio that produced films, which I believe the market was stepping away from. Story and character-driven movies, with my own style of twists and endings, that aren’t expected. Ultimately, a reflection of life.

I committed myself to stay true to that dream, and my heart, by not bending my values, or ever underselling myself, or my ideology. It may have taken a lot longer than some, staying true to my morals and values, both as a filmmaker, and as a person, but I am seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, and I feel no need to hide any part of me in the shadows, in any way. I am proud of my accomplishments, along with the track record of my career, and would only change a few things, but that’s life.

Through the years, I’ve made some great strides. I’m known for thriller, supernatural, and horror. I’ll admit, it’s exciting to write, and a blast to film, but my dream is to make an impact on the world, and the film industry. A Best Picture award has not been given for those genres, as most are purely made for entertainment. I want to entertain, but my end goal; to make a difference; leave a legacy. So I am proud that my first drama, which has supernatural undertones, and some thrilling moments, as any of the early Quentin Tarantino’s, and early Guy Ritchie, films did. Still, it’s a dramatic piece, named Making Peace. A story, set in 1969, and its themes are death, forgiveness, acceptance, and family. I was adamant about detail, in every way, from esthetic, like rehousing lenses from the 60s to work on modern cameras, ensuring that classic look, with today’s detail, to wardrobe, classic cars, a Joseph Eichler house… I went crazy on authenticity. It’s a dream come true to be at the point where I have the resources, and the people who believe in me, to be tedious. In filmmaking, it’s all about paying attention to detail. I feel strongly I have that covered, and this film will be one of my masterpieces.

My passion for what I do, the history I have, in an extensive life experience, on so many sides, of so many tracks, and most of all, with all the thousands of people I’ve interacted with over the years, I hope to give my story, my mind, to the world, have them at least understand it, and at the most, love it.

What moment in your career do you look back most fondly on?
I’m an Angeleno, born and raised in this phenomenal city. I’ve traveled the world, months at a time, roaming different cities, towns, even villages, and no matter what, I miss LA. I love this city!

I lived almost everywhere, from the suburbs of Santa Clarita to the beaches of Venice, around the streets of Hollywood, to the West, in the ghettos of the East, even spent some time in Compton. All over, except for Downtown. I know, they are cleaning it up, but to me, it’s more a place to visit, than a place to reside. That being said, it’s one of the greatest cities in the world. The only place I have found, you can start your day snowboarding in the mountains, then head down to sunbathe at the beach, get bored, and head into the desert, to watch the sunset, then make your way into the city, and enjoy a night on the town, to end at a safe home in the suburbs. Growing up in Los Angeles was fantastic.

You could get anywhere in twenty minutes. It was actually a saying. People still cruised the boulevards. The classic places, of Hollywood’s “heydays” still shined in their golden, be it partially decaying, beauty. People were proud to be from here, and it showed. Maybe it was because I was in my youth, stumbling around this magical city, lost in the excitement of the discoveries, and new experiences. And I long for those days, so I am sad to see a lot of those places go, the ideologies fade, and the lifestyle I remember become the past. Along with that, the current state of rent is out of control, where closet-sized spaces cost thousands of dollars, and people live in bunk beds, in shared rooms, just to afford to exist here. Many can’t, and end up living in their cars, which is a crisis, and a problem, as is the homeless situation in general, which has always been an issue in the city, but is now out of control. The city I was raised in has changed, though I’ll add, in a lot of exceptional ways.

My family is here, and with every new generation, more roots are planted. It fills me with great joy to see them embrace the city, as I did growing up. We now have subways, which is not only greener, but helps connect the city in ways that were impossible before. The amount of amazing gourmet restaurants, and hole-in-the-wall gems, including amazing fusion restaurants, are now rampant. The urban art scene has grown out of the Arts District, and amazing galleries are now all around the city. Though traffic is a nightmare, convenience is at an all-time high. And with new developments, everywhere you look, it’s only getting better. And, being in the Entertainment Industry, there is no other place in the world, where people are so accessible, from the neighbor that’s a star, to the friend-of-a-friend, who has an amazing eye for Cinematography. My last investor came from hanging out and chatting about the future and dreams. This is one of those cities, you never know who you’re going to meet.

My love for Los Angeles will never die. It has transformed, but everything does. I believe if you truly love something, embrace it, for the best of times and the worst. In the end, I’ll always have a home in LA. I may live somewhere else, but my heart will always be here.

Contact Info:

• Website: www.alevelpictures.com
• Email: [email protected]
• Instagram: www.instagram.com/judah.ray
• Facebook: www.facebook.com/judahray
• Twitter: https://twitter.com/judahray
• Other: www.makingpeacethefilm.com

Image Credit:
Photo: Photography by Judah Ray
Film: Direction by Judah Ray & Cinematography by Pierluigi Malavasi
Poem: Judah Ray

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