A Conversation with Director Alana Dietze, "Red Bike," California Repertory, by James Scarborough

Caridad Svich's "Red Bike" uses a simple narrative to explore American identity through a child's eyes. Director Alana Dietze brings this poetic text to life in CalRep's intimate Players Theatre.

The production marks CalRep's return to small venues, with the 82-seat theatre serving as the perfect setting for this personal journey. Svich's text creates a landscape where childhood innocence meets harsh economic reality.

"Red Bike" turns a child's bike crash into a window on contemporary America. The play examines capitalism, immigration, technology and community division. The red bike becomes both object and metaphor for freedom, possibility and the American dream.

Dietze, fresh from her work with Echo Theater Company, brings understanding of emotion to this production. Her approach, which won LADCC Awards for "Poor Clare," suits Svich's text where personal stories meet cultural themes.

This production makes us remember our childhood dreams and ask what happens to hope in a complex world.

Below follows an email conversation with Alana Dietze.

JS: How did you first encounter Caridad Svich's work, and what specifically drew you to direct "Red Bike" for CalRep?

AD: I first encountered Caridad’s work when I was working as the Literary Manager for the Echo Theater Company. I read a lot of plays and got to know many different playwrights through that position. When I read Red Bike, I was compelled by the theatrical blank slate it offered - the play can be staged an infinite number of ways and allows for a lot of imagination and exploration in how it is conceived. The play also drew me in thematically, particularly in its consideration of how we try to make meaning in our lives by acquiring “stuff”. It’s something that has been on my mind a lot lately as I reach middle age and there is more pressure to achieve certain material markers of success. Caridad captures this idea, the lie that the acquisition of things makes meaning, in such a compelling way.

JS: The Players Theatre is an intimate 82-seat venue. How has this space influenced your staging decisions, and what opportunities does it provide for creating the world of the play?

AD: The speaker(s) of the play frequently address the audience directly, which makes the Players an ideal theater in which to stage it. There is a relationship between the actors and characters, but the primary relationship is between performers and audience. The speakers need to share this story with the audience, and the more directly they can do so, the more truthful and intimate that exchange becomes. We’ve tried to make staging choices that enhance that audience/actor relationship and make the audience feel they are part of this journey the characters are on.

JS: Svich's text is described as "highly poetic and theatrical." What specific directorial techniques are you employing to honor the poetic nature of the language while ensuring the narrative remains accessible?

AD: I’ve encouraged the actors from the beginning to trust the text. The language is beautiful and impactful, it doesn’t need anything extra put on it to be effective. We’ve found again and again that simplicity and humor serve the play best. It can be tempting for performers to act a mood or emote unnecessarily when working with poetic language, and that’s something we’ve attempted to push against in our production. We return again and again to the need - why do they need to say this to this group of people in this moment? They are telling this story for a reason. The characters have learned something from this experience and are compelled to share it with us.

JS: This production examines complex socioeconomic issues through a child's perspective. Can you discuss your collaboration with the actors to authentically capture this unique viewpoint without simplifying the underlying themes?

AD: As with the poetry of the language, you can’t act “issues.” We talked in rehearsal about what the text tells us about the character’s socioeconomic status and how it impacts them and their feelings about the world. We also frequently discussed the fact that children are often given less credit for their awareness and understanding of the world than they are due. Children are remarkably perceptive and sensitive to their environment, and our speaker frequently lets us in on the fact that they know more than the adults in their life think they do.

JS: Your previous work has been noted for providing "tender, poignant and fierce windows on the female experience." How does this production connect to or diverge from your established directorial interests and strengths?

AD: This production has been unique for me thanks to the non-linear, abstract nature of the storytelling and the flexibility of the text. I love creating work that is physical and visceral and much of my work includes some movement component, but this production has relied on movement much more heavily than most of my previous repertoire. We have almost no props, so the actors create each scene with their bodies, some blocks and the support of our wonderful design team. Sometimes the movement is literal and sometimes it’s more expressive. The piece is not necessarily female-centric, as the review quoted notes tends to be my purview, but in centering a child’s perspective, it explores another point of view that might otherwise be dismissed by the dominant culture.

JS: The central image of the red bike functions as both literal object and metaphor. How have you and your design team approached the visual representation of this symbolism throughout the production?

AD: We’ve found many ways to embody “riding a bike” through movement. The lighting team has done beautiful work with color, texture and dynamics to support the work of the actors, and our sound designer, Nick Johnson, has created a soundscape that uses not only bicycle sounds but other environmental sounds that the characters might experience riding through a rural landscape. Tori Morones, our scenic designer, incorporated fabric into the backdrop of the play to evoke the fluidity and movement of being on a bike. The bike is such a symbol of freedom - it’s often our first taste of autonomy. Part of our quest in production has been to find many ways to embody those sensations of childhood freedom and joy.

JS: Svich comes from a multicultural background that influences her exploration of identity and cultural displacement. How have you addressed these aspects of her writing in your directorial approach?

AD: Our cast is very diverse and multilingual and we’ve incorporated their linguistic talents in small ways during the show. We have a scene that we’ve translated into Spanish as a nod to those themes of identity and displacement. Our audience is also heavily bilingual and multicultural, and we wanted to have a moment to acknowledge how a multicultural identity can complicate the sense of “home” that the play explores. The scene functions as a secret that is shared only with the Spanish speakers in the audience, and for those who don’t speak Spanish, it brings out the poetry of the language in a new way and asks them to consider what it’s like to be excluded for the length of that scene.

JS: The play occurs in the moment before a bike crash – a suspended point of time. What challenges does this temporal structure present, and how have you navigated them?

AD: Our continual challenge has been to make the text active and immediate despite its non-linear nature and the fluidity of time in this world. We come back to the basics again and again - what do you want? What about now? And now? Who do you want it from? Why? We’ve tried not to get too attached to the literal, while still ensuring the actors are clear on their moment-to-moment work. The world of the play is constructed on a memory and frequently dreamlike. Dreams and memories both tend not to follow a straightforward narrative. They come in on us at unexpected moments and shift suddenly. In the same way, the play doesn’t always adhere to our expected path. It has a number of what we’ve referred to in rehearsal as “side quests.” These are moments where the characters are diverted by something that may seem like a non-sequitur but, in fact, all contribute to our experience of the transformation at hand. We’ve thought of these diversions as akin to one’s life “flashing before your eyes” in a near-death experience. Time may slow down or speed up and we may be surprised by what comes forward in a moment of such compressed intensity.

JS: Beyond entertainment, what conversations do you hope this production might spark for audiences about contemporary American society?

AD: I hope the play will ask audiences to reflect on how we make meaning in our lives and consider what truly matters to them. I believe the kid is trying to remind us of what we lose when we are burdened with responsibility - children are naturally curious and receptive to wonder. As we age, we replace those transcendent qualities with a drive to achieve and obtain markers of power and success. Having things is not inherently bad - the red bike is the kid’s own taste of the pleasure of a loved material possession. But the bike is powerful in the kid’s life because of what it allows them to do. It is their experiences of the world and the people in their life that leave a lasting Impact. American culture centers productivity and constant growth, often with disregard to what must be discarded to achieve “progress.” The kid is seeing their town change at the same moment they are on the precipice of a transformation. Their experience reminds us to be aware of what we are leaving behind as we strive for forward momentum and asks us to consider if that progress is worth the sacrifices it requires.

JS: Looking at the broader landscape of contemporary theater, where do you position this work in terms of its artistic significance and its contribution to ongoing discussions about American identity?

AD: The play is set in a town that is simultaneously dying and developing. It is losing its soul as it creates jobs, replacing trees with buildings, industrializing and creating housing that the residents of the town cannot themselves afford. The play itself is also a challenge to the traditional theater model through its unique storytelling structure. The volatility of the American political landscape in recent years has created a sense of whiplash that the play’s structure emulates. It feels nearly impossible to keep up with the constant changes, the growing extremity of beliefs and the next great tragedy. And what for? The kid in Red Bike says “the news is bad and chaotic and depressing” and, indeed, it can seem futile to try to grasp at the political chess match playing out among those in power who directly impact our day-to-day lives. Centering the kid’s experience both simplifies and complicates this. They aren’t concerned with the latest bill that’s been introduced or department that’s been gutted, but they want to be able to ride their bike through their little town and feel safe, secure and that the things that make this place home won’t be ripped away from them. Red Bike reminds us to center what matters most, that true growth means uplifting the most powerless, and that the simplest pleasures are also the true stuff of life.

Performances are Tuesday through Saturday, March 19-23 and March 25-29 at 7:30 p.m. and Saturday, March 29 at 2 p.m. Tickets are $25. The Players Theatre is located at 1250 North Bellflower Boulevard, Long Beach, California 90815. For more information, click here.