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Toni Collette Is a Mesmerizing Cult Leader in Twisty Thriller Wayward

Toni Collette Is a Mesmerizing Cult Leader in Twisty Thriller Wayward

If asked, almost everyone would likely insist there’s no way they could ever be convinced to join a cult. But, consider this—what if that cult is run by Toni Collette? That’s one of the key questions at the heart of Netflix’s twisty thriller Wayward, a show that deploys the actress’s most maternal and menacing qualities to devastating (and often frightening) effect.

Collette plays Evelyn Ward, the director of a boarding school for troubled teens who allegedly uses “groundbreaking therapeutic techniques” to “solve the problem of adolescence”. One part authoritarian leader and one part empathetic therapist, her particular brand of healing tends to skew more malevolent than maternal. You likely won’t be surprised to learn that it’s a role that seems tailor-made for Collette’s immense talents, nor that the character she’s playing is something more than she initially seems. Yet, much like the show itself, the seemingly villainous Evelyn is strangely fascinating, compelling in a way that’s difficult to look away from and hard to pin down. 

It’s true, Collette’s role in the world of the show is not subtle. In fact, not much about Wayward is. It’s clear from the jump that almost nothing about the picturesque town at the series’ center is what it appears to be, that something genuinely disturbing is happening on the grounds of the local school, and that the therapy that Tall Pines Academy preaches looks an awful lot like abuse. But while many of the show’s choices are obvious, even predictable ones, it—like many of the popular cult documentaries Netflix already knows we are all obsessed with—is full of the sort of creepy atmosphere, relentless pacing, and weird quirks that make for extremely addictive viewing even when it doesn’t provide as many answers as some of us might like.

The second original series from writer, actor, and comedian Mae Martin, Wayward is something of a strange choice for a follow-up to their semi-autobiographical dramedy Feel Good. Boasting a much darker tone and a focus on a toxic rehabilitation industry that thrives on stripping young people of their autonomy and parents of their responsibility, it’s a show that doesn’t shy away from the ugliness at the center of its premise, tackling questions of conformism, generational trauma, and the difficulties of growing up. The whiff of something vaguely supernatural adds a frisson of extra tension to the show’s overall mystery and keeps it firmly in territory that feels more like The OA (albeit much less weird) than the hyper-realistic Adolescence, but the show is strongest when it leans into a kind of wry detachment about what precisely it is that we’re seeing. 

Told through two parallel perspectives, Wayward follows the story of married couple Alex (Martin) and Laura (Sarah Gadon), two recent transplants to the small community of Tall Pines who are hoping for a fresh start and a place to settle after a professional setback. A former student at the local academy herself, Laura still has warm relationships with many of the town’s residents, including Evelyn, who gifts them the spacious house they move into. The pair’s unsettlingly close relationship is the first of (many) red flags that there’s plenty Alex doesn’t know about his wife’s past or the strangely symbiotic relationship between the town and the school at its center. (Almost everyone appears to be an alumnus or connected to one, and they all know an unsettling amount about the Dempseys and their lives.)  

Things get immediately weird(er) when, during Alex’s first shift on the local police force, he encounters a bloodied, runaway teen desperately trying to escape the same academy that the rest of the town won’t stop waxing rhapsodic over. As Alex attempts to learn more about Evelyn’s operation, his investigation becomes intertwined with two new students, Abbie (Sydney Topliffe) and Leila (Alyvia Alyn Lind), a pair of codependent best friends who have each been sent to Tall Pines after some relatively mild acts of adolescent rebellion and who must now survive its various horrors.  

There’s nothing particularly groundbreaking in a mystery drama about a newcomer investigating the bizarre local secrets of the eerie small town they find themselves in, which is likely why Wayward shines brightest when it’s following the goings on inside the academy itself. At Tall Pines, the kids are frequently forced to perform hard labor, endure isolation in rooms with disturbing recordings playing on loop and a door that never opens, and participate in group therapy sessions comprised of little more than the chance to bully and verbally attack one another. Ratting out one’s classmates is encouraged, touching is forbidden, and progress is monitored via a series of bizarrely named “levels”—the highest being the giant red flag unsubtly called “Ascend”—which bestow extra privileges and the social boon of Evelyn’s apparent approval. 

Topliffe and Lind are outstanding together, and the many complexities of Abbie and Leila’s friendship could likely power a fairly decent teen drama all on their own. It helps that they’re surrounded by an able and engaging ensemble of bizarre misfits, including a chronic liar who longs for friends (John Daniel), a true believing rule follower who gleefully snitches on fellow students (Isolde Ardies), a bad boy type who refuses to follow the system (Milton Torres Lara), and a roommate who just wants to slide under the radar (Elizabeth Adams). All of them are victims of the Academy’s brutal rehabilitation process at various points, but each gets satisfying arcs of their own across the series’ eight episodes (all of which were available for review). 

But as the story reaches its end, Wayward struggles to find the point it’s making. It’s possible to read the series as many things: A cautionary tale about growing up, an ode to the power of community, a broad repudiation of authoritarianism, a warning about our own collective susceptibility to manipulation, even a vague allegory for gender transition (Alex is a trans man). Yet, the show’s conclusion is strangely malleable, refusing to offer clear answers about many of the strangest questions it raises along the way. But while its conclusion is more frustrating than you might expect, Wayward’s stellar performances and propulsive pacing make the journey worth more than the destination. 

Wayward premieres Thursday, September 25, on Netflix. 


Lacy Baugher Milas writes about TV and Books at Paste Magazine, but loves nerding out about all sorts of pop culture. You can find her on Twitter and Bluesky at @LacyMB

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