Ever since Toni Collette showed up in Hereditary, even just looking at her smiling genuinely can make one feel a little bit unsettled. There is an eerie nature to how she presents herself, and this works perfectly when she has to play a villain, especially one that terrorizes children…well, teenagers. Wayward tells the story of a boarding school for delinquents in a small town called Tall Pines. However, there is something sinister about this for-profit school, where kids have gone missing, but nobody seems to care. When a queer couple, Laura and Alex, move to Tall Pines, Laura’s childhood hometown, Alex is immediately weirded out. What’s so odd about Tall Pines? Will Alex figure out the secret behind the boarding school that has the same name as the town? Or will he be stuck there forever? That’s the basic premise of Mae Martin’s Wayward.
The show is a confluence of teen drama, parental advisory, queer romance, and psych-thriller all in one. This is my first time watching anything created by Mae Martin, and I thoroughly enjoyed every second of it. I think, in terms of the writing, the show is very well fleshed out, even with a few ambiguous bits that make it particularly intriguing. Mae’s character, Alex, is also a great protagonist, because despite his flaws, we feel connected to him and want to root for him. Given the show is set in the early 2000s, there are a lot of fun elements, especially the music, to play with, and Mae does an excellent job at keeping us entertained with all these little details.
Wayward isn’t entirely original; we’ve definitely seen this kind of story before, but it’s original enough to make it so I can’t pinpoint a specific story that reminds me of this one. Though there are definitely elements from teen dramas we’ve seen many times before. In this day and age, where Netflix continues to drop half-baked shows for second-screen viewing, Mae gives us something that demands our attention, but I can’t give them all the credit. A lot is banking on the performances, and they’re all pretty darn good. The first person I have to mention is Sydney Topliffe, who plays Abbie, one of the kids who gets dragged to Tall Pines against her will. Abbie might well be one of my favorite characters on the show, and this is mainly because of Sydney’s performance. Technically, I was barely a child in the early 2000s, but I still felt a sense of nostalgia watching the kids on the show. Alyvia Alyn Lind plays Abbie’s best friend, Leila, who has been around for a long time as a child actress, but she’s come onto the main stage perfectly in this show. She’s got a strong screen presence, but the best part of the show is definitely the friendship between the two girls. Sarah Gadon is alluring as Laura, Alex’s pregnant partner. There’s something that draws you to her character, but you can’t really put your finger on what it is. This is very relevant to the story as well.
The show is dark in the themes it tackles, but never truly shies away from having some fun in said context. It’s humorous while still delivering its message. The story itself is winding and occasionally comes across as almost fantasy-like, thanks to the cultish goings-on. You’ll get what I mean when you watch the show. The show plays with a few motifs that keep popping up. A lot of the characters of the story play off each other in a reflective manner, so you have to be tuned in to really see these connections. In terms of pacing, the show can be seen as divided into a few acts, most of which are quick-paced, and none will leave you bored. It’s honestly a well-rounded show that keeps you interested from start to finish.
Given so many of the show’s main characters are adolescent or older, it does a pretty good job recreating realistic teen dynamics. When you see someone do something stupid, it doesn’t feel like bad writing; it feels like you’re watching a kid mess up. There’s also a plethora of characters, and oftentimes, on a show like this one, you don’t have more than 2 or 3 fleshed out characters, but this show does a bang-up job at giving everyone the time of day. Even the supporting characters have a big role to play, and they all have enough meat on the bones.
Considering it’s Mae Martin, the show has to tackle sexuality and gender identity, and it does so with great care and tenderness. Obviously, Alex himself is a trans man, and I don’t think I’ve seen a show before with a trans protagonist that doesn’t really focus on their gender identity. What I mean by this is that such shows have often been about expressing what they’re going through, or the struggles they face in becoming their true selves. In this case, Alex is already established as a man, and despite being set in the 2000s, apart from a few comments here and there, we never truly sense his “transness.” This is massively progressive because it allows us to see the character as just a character rather than a “queer” one in mainstream media.
Ultimately, this is a great show on Netflix that ticks a lot of boxes. It’s got a little bit of everything, making for an easy-breezy watch despite working in some dark themes, especially around parenting and abuse. It’s also quite touching in bits, though not in the “I want to cry” kind of way, but more in the “Oh, I want someone to say that to me too” kind of way. Honestly, there’s not much to complain about, and I love that it’s only 40-minute episodes that are easily bingeable. I’d give Wayward 4 out of 5 stars. I’d honestly recommend it to anyone, but be warned of violence and a little bit of blood and gore, oh, and a lot of spousal smooching.
