Wayward is one of the most unsettling shows of the year. The true story is even more chilling.

Wayward is Netflix's most compelling new series, and for good reason. This isn't your typical cult drama — it's something far more nuanced and unsettling.

We've all seen cult dramas before. You know the drill; charismatic leader, vulnerable followers, things go horribly wrong. 

On the surface, Wayward delivers exactly what you'd expect from a cult-focused series. But scratch beneath that familiar premise, and you'll find something much more thought-provoking.

Watch: The trailer for Wayward. Article continues after video.

Set in the picture-perfect town of Tall Pines, the story revolves around Tall Pines Academy. Outwardly, it's a boarding school for "troubled" teens. In reality? It's giving major cult vibes, run by the absolutely chilling Evelyn Wade (Toni Collette).

Mae Martin (who is nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns) stars as Alex Dempsey, a married man who shows up to town with his pregnant wife Laura (Sarah Gadon). Alex starts poking around the academy's dodgy practices, and let's just say what he discovers is deeply, deeply disturbing.

Then there's Abbie (Sydney Topliffe) and Leila (Alyvia Alyn Lind) — best friends from Toronto who find themselves trapped at the sinister Tall Pines Academy and immediately start plotting their escape — giving viewers the clearest window into just how horrifying life inside the institution really is.

What makes Wayward particularly chilling is that its disturbing premise isn't entirely fictional. Creator Mae Martin drew inspiration from the real "troubled teen industry" (TTI) and a deeply personal experience that haunted them for years.

The spark for the series came from Martin's own friend, who vanished without warning during their teenage years.

"Her parents deceived her completely — they told her they were taking her to see David Letterman in New York. She was absolutely thrilled about it, and then she just disappeared," Martin told Radio Times. "All of us were in complete panic mode. It was genuinely terrifying not knowing what had happened to her".

"I remember getting a phone call, she had escaped, and she was calling from a pay phone, and it was just crazy," they continued.

Then, two years later, their friend finally returned.

"When she came back, the stories that she had, I just couldn't stop thinking about it," they said. "The therapies are so theatrical and bizarre. I mean, I'm calling them 'therapies'. It's like behavioural modification programmes."

"I felt a lot of guilt," they said. "And that's sort of where the kernel of this show came from. She was very much an Abbie-type character, and so I was imagining what it would have been like if I'd gone to rescue her, or if we'd been in there together, how we would have responded differently to that programme."

Martin themselves had been labelled as "wayward" in the early 2000s, a time when mental health understanding was far more limited.

"I was definitely acting out and probably needed some form of help," they admitted. "But back then, we had virtually no understanding of mental health or what might be driving these behaviours. There was this prevailing attitude that problems, particularly around addiction, were simply about being selfish or hedonistic. Now we recognise that many of these behaviours are actually self-medication."

The cultural context of that era plays heavily into Wayward's themes.

"It really was the Dr. Phil era of sending kids to brat camp," Martin noted, referencing how the TV personality would regularly recommend sending troubled teens to wilderness programmes and therapeutic institutions on his show.

The most disturbing revelation came when Martin discovered the financial incentives driving these referrals. A drug counsellor they had been seeing "would actually receive payment for every child he referred to one of these schools," they explained.

"I think that's incredibly widespread. When there's money involved, and these schools have such strong incentives to target desperate parents who are genuinely trying to help their children, those families become extremely vulnerable to manipulation.

Image: Netflix

Here's the thing about Wayward — it's got the creeping dread of horror without relying on cheap scares, and the mind-bending elements of a thriller without those "gotcha" moments that feel forced. It's a fascinating hybrid that sits somewhere in between, and that's exactly what makes it so compelling. 

The series creates a sustained sense of unease that builds and builds until you're completely under its spell.

You need to go into this show either expecting that genre-blending approach, or better yet, go in with absolutely no expectations at all. Trust me on this one — the less you know, the more the show can surprise you with its unique tone and approach.

And let's rave about the casting for a moment, because it is impeccable. 

Toni Collette is, unsurprisingly, absolutely incredible. She brings that signature intensity we've come to expect, but with layers of vulnerability that make her character utterly compelling to watch. I love this woman so much. 

The real revelation, though, is Mae Martin as Alex. Not only do they deliver a captivating performance, but Martin also created and wrote the entire series. It's rare to see someone excel so brilliantly across multiple creative roles, and their vision for this story is both ambitious and deeply personal.

Image: Getty

In fact, the entire supporting ensemble deserves major credit, because they're all absolutely phenomenal. Every single actor, from the major recurring characters to the smaller roles, brings something special to the table.

There's not a weak link in the bunch, which is honestly rare to see. It's the kind of ensemble work that elevates the entire series and makes the world feel authentic and lived-in.

I was particularly impressed with Gage Monroe, who plays Riley — a teen at Tall Pines Academy who befriends Abbie. Without any spoilers, the character goes through a gradual yet significant growth arc and somehow manages to capture the subtleties of that journey perfectly.

Yes, the pacing of the show can feel deliberate — some might say slow — at times. But there are enough genuine twists and revelations to keep you thoroughly hooked.

The show has this confidence about it; it trusts its audience to stay engaged even during the quieter, more introspective moments. And honestly? That patience pays off in spades. When those big moments hit, they really hit.

Where Wayward gets really interesting (and a bit heavy, but in the best way) lies in the way the series tackles intergenerational trauma head-on, asking some seriously tough questions. It doesn't offer easy answers about who's responsible for the cycles of pain that get passed down through families and communities. Instead, it presents these complex questions through symbols, metaphors, and multiple interpretations.

Image: Netflix

The tone remains consistently eerie and chilling throughout. Alex serves as our guide — and the audience's conduit — for investigating and discovering the dark truths at the heart of the story and, like him, we go through quite the rollercoaster of emotions and revelations when it comes to the story.

The show wants you to think, to question, to sit with the discomfort of not having everything neatly resolved.

Wayward is the kind of series that will definitely have you thinking long after it's over. It's complex, unsettling, and absolutely worth your time.

Feature Image: Netflix.