Sarena Parmar, Thom Nyhuus, & Fuad Ahmed in The Surrogate | Photo by Kendra Epik Photography
It’s rare that a piece of theatre triggers such acute ambivalence in me. The Surrogate, presented by Here For Now Theatre in association with Crow’s Theatre, House and Body, and b current Performing Arts, has a deeply provocative premise, unfolds which such urgency, I wish it was a stronger play. The characters and their escalating situation are intriguing, the messiness of life, all those clashing, ever-evolving motivations, is given ample space. Conceptually, this is solid; in execution, however, it falters significantly.
Sameer (Fuad Ahmed) and Jake (Thom Nyhuus), a gay couple from New York, have rushed into a Louisiana hospital to check on their surrogate—Marya (Sarena Parmar), a Muslim woman carrying their child. It is a perfect storm of precarious circumstances. Her health is in jeopardy just as she is almost ready to give birth. Sameer and Jake’s relationship may not be as stable as they’d let on. And this contract between the trio is on shaky ground as Marya has admitted herself to a hospital in a US state that doesn’t recognize Sameer and Jake’s gay union.
The three confess, cajole and wrangle. All the while, a maternity ward nurse (with some obvious though unstated prejudice against gay parents), Christina (Antonette Rudder), and Marya’s son, Qasim (Siddharth Sharma), (confused yet deeply invested in her protection against these interlopers), are caught up in the drama. As the situation grows increasingly fraught, everyone must reconcile their individual needs with a complex set of interwoven legalities, pressures and personal investments—both financial and emotional. The primary strength of Mohsin Zaidi’s script is its meditation on this raw and desperate entanglement. The complexities of contractual law, interpersonal dynamics, religious identity and individual agency are allowed breathing room even as tensions mount exponentially.
I greatly appreciate how layered and exasperating these characters are. Sameer and Jake’s relationship is well developed, a vivid window through which we can contemplate their loving yet uncertain bond. Infidelity, a ubiquitous issue, rears its head. There is a soap opera quality to the revelations, but this aspect of their conflict is reasonably grounded in a larger conversation about their trajectory. One of the more compelling facets of their affectionate yet troubled partnership is the tension that results from Sameer’s agonized bouncing between the expectations of his traditional Muslim family and the gay marriage they won’t recognize. Marya and Sameer’s dubious connection over religious signifiers (both sincere and feigned) is another aspect that piqued my interest.
The most compelling conversation here is about agency—a worthy discussion about social positioning in relation to gendered, cultural mores and the political concerns of a woman’s autonomy in association with the opportunity her body can offer a gay couple striving to create a family. The notion of her body as a vessel, as property—specifically as a tool through which financially stable (though historically disenfranchised) men fulfill their goals—is charged. A related, equally fascinating discussion here is how privilege manifests, then shifts between these characters, warped by not only who they are, but where they are.
Unfortunately, Zaidi hasn’t finessed this into a consistently convincing scenario. Though there are some undeniably stirring moments, the dialogue relies too heavily on contrived expository passages. Pardon the worn-out parlance: the writing tells us who these people are rather than showing us. The actors can’t quite elevate the overall verisimilitude either, the performances often falling into emphatic yet strained signalling.
Director Christopher Manousos’ staging has style and momentum. Having Sameer and Jake occasionally drop into audience seating was an effective bit of immersion. The traverse layout, designed by Scott Penner, evokes a long, institutional corridor leading our eyes towards Marya’s hospital bed. A series of mirrored panels slanted over the gurney is a clever device to allow us a fuller, slightly disorienting view of Marya when she’s lying down. The expanse of blue flooring and overhead florescent lamps is effectively sterile and ominous. Chris Malkowski (lighting) and Maddie Bautista (sound) have devised some portentous scene transitions that punctuate the urgency with pulsating lights and a baleful soundscape that eerily converge. Andrew Broderick’s costumes firmly establish how these characters exist in the world without drawing attention to themselves.
Again, conceptually, this play is teeming with raw and nuanced complexity. I wanted so badly to be fully swallowed up by its mounting stakes. It didn’t help that the audience at opening was oddly performative in their engagement. The gasps, snickering and not-quite-hushed commentary—these didn’t seem entirely authentic, but more of an indication that the spectators get what’s happening. In a campier show, this would seem more natural and appropriate, but it felt forced here, as if audible participation could heighten the drama.
The Surrogate
February 24 to March 22, 2026
Streetcar Crowsnest, Studio Theatre
(345 Carlaw Avenue)
95 minutes (no intermission)
Antonette Rudder & Sarena Parmar in The Surrogate | Photo by Kendra Epik Photography