Disturbing Netflix mystery explores a world out to ‘solve’ adolescence

Wayward
Mae Martin, Netflix

Like many, I find reflecting on my teenage years a daunting task, filled with too much angst and not enough clarity. However, despite any discomfort, I don’t view adolescence as a mistake or phase we should aim to eliminate.

This perspective diverges from several characters in Wayward, an eight-part mystery series from the writer-comedian Mae Martin. Set in the enigmatic Tall Pines Academy, located in the fictional Vermont town of Tall Pines, the institution pledges to tame rebellious teens and resolve the chaos of growing up. Evelyn Wade (Toni Collette), the school’s commanding figure, runs the “progressive, intentional community” with a sugary, New Age outlook. Yet, when you look deeper, the warmth and positivity of the town seem to fade.

The story unfolds through the eyes of Abbie (Sydney Topliffe), a Canadian stoner tomboy struggling to meet her father’s expectations. Following a late-night escape to meet her close friend Leila (Alyvia Alyn Lind), a complex, grief-stricken girl perceived as a bad influence, Abbie’s parents resort to drastic measures, having her abducted to Evelyn’s academy. Upon her arrival, all personal items are confiscated and students are urged to report each other for even minor missteps.

Across town, new police officer Alex Dempsey (played by Martin) and his pregnant wife Laura (Sarah Gadon) are finding their footing. Gifted a home by Evelyn due to Laura’s esteemed connection as a former Tall Pines student, they soon find themselves entangled in unsettling occurrences. When Alex encounters an escaped student fleeing through the forest, brimming with fear, he is incited to delve into the academy’s secrets.

A sense of small-town eeriness permeates Tall Pines: residents exhibit an unsettling interest in the couple’s impending child; a bizarre door is inexplicably carved into their basement wall; and Laura is haunted by the incessant sounds of croaking toads. This unsettling atmosphere is just a precursor to the extremes observed at the academy, where former students now working there, referred to by animal names, tout exaggerated tales of the academy’s transformative influence.

Yet, the most unnerving aspect of Wayward is its critique of therapyspeak. The show addresses the misuse of psychological jargon, harsh behavior concealed beneath the guise of mental health preservation—especially concerning adults.

Consider the plight of Abbie, whose typical teenage rebellions are pathologized by her parents. Desiring her to conform to their ideals, they feign harm and send her away to be “cured” of her androgynous nature, distancing her from friends like Leila.

Manipulation runs rampant at the academy, with Evelyn as its chief architect. She distorts the “honesty is the best policy” adage into a brutal form of “treatment,” where students are relentlessly critiqued by peers under the guise of revealing harsh “truths,” breaking them down emotionally. During dinner, Evelyn states, “It’s a way of holding yourself accountable.”

Though Wayward explores intriguing themes, it often proves to be more engaging to contemplate than to actually watch. Regrettably, after starting strong, the series falters and concludes on a rather mundane note. However, just as I was losing interest, the final moments brought a satisfying revelation about a previously underdeveloped character.

If reminiscing about your teenage years intrigues you, Wayward demands attention. If not, you might find more rewarding ways to spend your time.

Bethan also recommends…

Hereditary
Ari Aster

Toni Collette delivers an outstanding performance in Hereditary, another dark exploration of generational trauma. She portrays Annie, an artist whose family is beset by disturbing events following her mother’s passing.

Abolish the Family
Sophie Lewis

In this book, Lewis traces two centuries of advocacy for abolishing the family unit, asserting that alternative forms of childcare are necessary outside of privatized systems. One need not fully subscribe to the thesis to appreciate its insights.

Bethan Ackerley is assistant culture editor at New Scientist. With a passion for sci-fi, sitcoms, and all things eerie, follow her on X @‌inkerley