Wayward is a new Netflix miniseries with all eight episodes available to stream now. Created by Mae Martin, the show stars Martin alongside Alyvia Alyn Lind, Sydney Topliffe, Toni Collette, Sarah Gadon, John Daniel, Elizabeth Adams, Milton Torres, Joshua Close, Tattiawna Jones, and Isolde Ardies. The story follows a small-town cop who begins to suspect that a local school for troubled teens—and its dangerously charismatic founder—may not be what it seems.

This show grabbed my attention the moment I saw Toni Collette was involved. Good or bad, I’ve always felt Collette is intentional with the projects she chooses, and here, even as an antagonist, she’s terrifyingly effective. I came in expecting her to steal the show—and she does—but what truly surprised me was Mae Martin’s performance. It’s a compelling, grounded lead role that left me genuinely excited to see what they do next.

I didn’t expect Toni Collette to take the kind of backseat she does in Wayward, but it quickly becomes clear this is Mae Martin’s show. I wasn’t familiar with Martin’s work before this, but with the amount of screen time they command—and the strength of their performance—I soon realized they also created the series. That connection makes perfect sense; so much of the show rests on Martin’s shoulders, and they carry it with confidence. Whatever Martin does next, I’ll be paying attention.

One of the show’s more interesting choices is setting the story in 2003. At times, it does a solid job of grounding us in that era through music, fashion, and early-2000s tech. Martin plays a transgender man, and the character is also written as such. While it’s refreshing to see that representation, especially in a period piece, the level of acceptance shown by the surrounding characters—particularly those within Collette’s group—feels a bit too idealized. Having lived through that time, it doesn’t fully reflect the prejudice trans people often faced. The show hints at cult dynamics and how charismatic leaders can draw people in, but it never digs deep enough into the danger beneath the surface. That layer of thematic tension feels underexplored, especially given how much potential it had.

There’s a strong core to Wayward, with multiple moving pieces that come together in surprising and often unpredictable ways. The show builds genuine suspense, and with characters who feel lived-in and real, it’s easy to become emotionally invested. Just when you think you’ve figured out where it’s headed, it veers in a different direction—one of the show’s biggest strengths. That unpredictability helps underscore the central theme: the quiet, insidious danger of cults and the power of manipulation.

Unfortunately, the ending doesn’t quite stick the landing. After spending so much time as a slow burn, the series rushes through its final act. In a miniseries format, pacing is everything—and here, the urgency comes a little too late. By the time the credits roll, it’s clear the story isn’t finished. Not only does it set up a second season, but it feels like a second season is necessary to bring true resolution. As it stands, the finale feels more like a pause than a payoff.

Overall, Wayward is a mind-bending thriller that delivers with unexpected twists and standout performances. While the ending feels rushed and leaves you wanting more, it’s still a promising debut from Mae Martin—and it definitely has me excited to see what they do next.

VERDICT: 3.5/5 – Pretty Good