Beyond the Parody: Hywel Evans on Spraywatch

Spraywatch: A Beautiful Rescue arrives at the Edinburgh Fringe looking like a Baywatch parody, but beneath the seaside silliness is a musical about identity, belonging and embracing who you are. Writer and director Hywel Evans talks about the Muppets, British seaside culture, comedy with heart, and bringing his first original musical to the Fringe.

How do your influences combine in Spraywatch, and what does it mean in practice to chase the feeling of the Muppets without containing any actual Muppets?

Hey, Muppets are people too. There are two things about the Muppets that I think are vital, not just for performance but for life in general.

Firstly, the characters are completely unashamed of who they are. Take them or leave them. The Muppets are a group of misfits, all with different flaws and all needing community, but they’re unapologetic about their idiosyncrasies.

Secondly, the Muppets were a genuinely cool thing to be a fan of in the 70s and 80s - half of which was before I was born. Aside from Sesame Street, they were aimed at adults. Their comedy and creativity were never about criticism or reproach; they were about asking, “Who can do the funniest thing?”

There’s a joy in seeing unique characters perform, and it’s sad to me that Disney hasn’t quite figured out what to do with them today. The idea that our strange selves belong, without fear of fitting in or missing out, feels incredibly relevant in the social media age.

For Spraywatch, the parallel is very close. The characters are who they are. They need to learn things, but usually the lesson is about embracing themselves rather than pretending to be something they’re not. It sounds deep for a comedy, but comedy is pretty deep when it’s done well.

Baywatch is such a specific and loaded cultural artefact – all slow-motion running, impossible bodies and Californian sun – so what does transplanting that fantasy to a grey English coastal town expose about both the original and about British seaside culture specifically?**

What is “Baywatch”? No idea what you’re talking about. This is a story about a town called Spray that we watch. That’s all.

But seriously, Spray is a fictional British coastal town that represents many seaside towns in the 90s. Tough economic times in the 80s and early 90s hit coastal communities hard, with more people choosing holidays in Spain over traditional British beach resorts.

The wider truth is that American TV in the 90s was huge and often sold perfection and wish fulfilment to people watching from cloudy Britain. Part of the joke is seeing people like me - distinctly under-exercised - trying to become something they’re not. I think comedy often lives in the gap between who people imagine they are and who they really are.

At the same time, there’s a lot to admire about the American dream: positivity, optimism and the belief that anything is possible. There’s also something tragic about it, because many people can’t achieve those dreams, economically or otherwise.

I’ve always felt Britain could benefit from a little more American confidence and ambition, while America could benefit from some of our scepticism, caution and willingness to question power.

I don’t really like making “points” with writing. I prefer presenting conflicting ideas and seeing where the compromise ends up - probably somewhere in the mid-Atlantic.

You describe the show as exploring ideas of perfection relevant today – beauty, ambition, identity, belonging are all in the mix – how do you keep those themes from becoming heavy in what is also clearly meant to be a joyful, high-energy musical?

I exaggerate them until they become silly to us, while the characters take them completely seriously - as people do with their own problems.

Comedy and drama are essentially the same thing, except comedy commits fifty times harder. Someone doesn’t just dislike crabs - they’re terrified of them, despise them, and want to wear a spacesuit to avoid them. We laugh because our feelings have been exaggerated.

If you’ve never seen Charlie Chaplin in the boxing ring, look it up on YouTube. He plays a character who’s terrified of being hit, and his commitment to that fear is extraordinary. It becomes almost a ballet.

A good comedian does the same thing. They exaggerate our fears and vulnerabilities until we realise how absurd they can be. Once we recognise that absurdity, they become easier to deal with.

Personally, I think there’s nothing more boring than an issue-based story. I’d much rather tell a story where characters have issues and then sing, dance and laugh about them. That way, people end up thinking without realising they’re thinking.

Your cast member Abbie Ashall says to expect a parody and you'll be surprised – what is it about the show that tends to catch audiences off guard, and at what point in the evening do you think they realise it's doing something more than they anticipated?

I don’t think there’s a single moment when people consciously think, “Oh, this is different from what I expected.”

The show begins exactly where you’d expect: a perfect song about perfect lifeguards in Santa Monica. From there, it simply follows the characters. By the end, I think it would be hard to imagine the show being anything else.

A straightforward parody of a 90s lifeguard TV show would actually be quite boring. Even the film version spent most of its time away from the beach in a detective story.

What does happen is that there are two or three moments where characters reveal something unexpected about themselves. Those are probably the moments where audiences have the “Ohhh, I see” reaction.

You've had a fifteen-year career in radio alongside your theatre work – how has that shaped the way you think about sound, music and atmosphere in a live show, and is there a radio sensibility baked into how Spraywatch is built?

I was lucky to find success directing at a very young age. Before I’d even finished studying at Rose Bruford, I was assistant directing at Theatr Clwyd in North Wales. Suddenly I was directing actors twice my age and touring major venues.

What I realised was that even when reviews were incredibly positive, the audience didn’t really change. The same theatre-goers would usually be there regardless.

Radio was completely different. Suddenly I was speaking to thousands of people in their cars, kitchens, bathrooms and school runs. If they didn’t like what you were doing, they’d tell you immediately and honestly.

I brought theatrical storytelling into radio. We took listeners on adventures every day, sometimes literally - to Vegas, Lillehammer and Loch Ness, treating every show as a creative experience.

But it works both ways. Radio teaches you that you can’t take a second of someone’s attention for granted. Every second has to earn its place.

Lately I’ve seen professional touring productions where the sound quality has genuinely surprised me. Sometimes the music is so quiet you can’t hear it, while other moments are loud but muddy. I accept that this is a show amongst many and Edinburgh isn’t a laboratory for perfection in sound, but I will try to make sure you can hear everything because it does matter to me.

This is your Edinburgh Fringe debut as a writer – you've directed national tours for Theatr Clwyd and trained at Rose Bruford, so you're not new to big work – what made this the story you wanted to make that leap with, and what does Edinburgh represent to you as the place to do it?**

Three years ago, I was standing in Edinburgh looking at posters and imagined one of ours up there. At that point I hadn’t written the show. It was just an idea with a terrible working title - something like Britwatch, which sounded far too Brexity.

Then I stopped thinking about Edinburgh entirely and started writing. For months I stayed up until 4am writing, recording and rewriting. There are now more than a thousand drafts on my computer. I never expected anyone to help, join in, or even see it performed. I just focused on making the next draft better.

Over time, around 200 people have become part of the project, which still surprises me emotionally. I genuinely can’t believe it.

Getting Abbie involved was a turning point. Her enthusiasm at moments when I thought everything was rubbish made a huge difference.

The key difference from my previous work is that this story is mine. Before, I was directing work by Shakespeare, Dylan Thomas or Harper Lee. They had already done the hard part. Creating something from scratch carries a different kind of pressure. I try not to think about ticket sales or audience expectations. If I did, I’d never get anything done.

So after years of writing songs and scripts instead of making money, I’ve somehow ended up back in front of that Edinburgh poster board. It feels completely surreal. In fact, you asking me this question is making me nervous. So I’m going to go and write a joke about crabs and stop thinking about it.

Spraywatch: A Beautiful Rescue is at theSpace @ Niddry, Lower Theatre, 7 – 15 Aug 21.45 and 17-29 August 19.30 Ticket Information here: Spraywatch: A Beautiful Rescue | Edinburgh Festival Fringe