Warning: This post contains spoilers for Wayward.
In the weeks leading up to the release of Mae Martin’s new show, the Canadian actor and comedian has heard time and again that the limited series—a thriller about the disturbing inner workings of an institute for “troubled” teens—seems like a “left-turn” from their previous work. Respectfully, they disagree. “I’ve written a lot about adolescence and adult characters processing their teens,” Martin said over a recent Zoom call. “So I really feel like it lives in the same universe as everything I’ve done.”
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It’s true that Wayward, out in its entirety on Netflix today, is definitively darker than the stand-up comedy Martin has built a career on, but much like their 2020 semi-autobiographical series Feel Good, the show’s characters grapple with trauma, addiction, and codependent relationships with as much levity as their situations allow.
Set in idyllic Tall Pines, Vt., Wayward follows Abbie (Sydney Topliffe) and Leila (Alyvia Alyn Lind), a pair of stoner best friends stuck at Tall Pines Academy, a boarding school that proudly boasts a mission to “solve the problem of adolescence.” Imprisoned and horrified by the “therapeutic” techniques of the head youth counselor, Evelyn (Toni Collette), the girls plot their escape. Outside of the school, Evelyn wields a mysterious kind of power over the town itself, which no one seems to question until Alex (Martin), a curious police officer, moves in with his pregnant wife Laura (Sarah Gadon). After quickly realizing that something sinister lies beneath the picture-perfect surface of Tall Pines, Alex teams up with Abbie and Leila to investigate and expose the dark secrets that form the foundation of the town, the school, and Evelyn herself.
Wayward is equal parts thrilling and devastating, especially considering the very real industry that inspired the show. In June 2024, a U.S. Senate Finance Committee released a report that exposed the abusive and neglectful practices of youth residential treatment facilities like the fictional Tall Pines Academy. “Children that enter these facilities often leave even more traumatized than when they arrived,” the Committee stated. Recent documentaries like Teen Torture, Inc. and The Program, along with media-personality Paris Hilton’s advocacy work, have highlighted that trauma and brought national attention to an industry in desperate need of reform.
TIME spoke with Martin—who created, wrote, and produced the series—about their personal connection to the story at the heart of Wayward, how they prepared to play a small-town cop, and what it was like working with Toni Collette.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
TIME: You’ve said that you were inspired to write this show because a friend of yours, Nicole Simon, was sent to a troubled teen institute. Was she involved in the writing process at all?
Martin: The show really is like a love letter to that friendship, and to teen friendship—those girls [Abbie and Leila] talk the way we talked [growing up] in Toronto. So she was a consultant, she came and talked to the writers room and read all the scripts. We also had a writer, Misha Osherovich, who was sent to one of those schools. It was important for us to do a ton of research, but also to be sensitive to the fact that there are people that [have gone] through those programs and had different experiences.
You’ve always been very open about your own “wayward” behavior as a teenager—you struggled with addiction and spent some time in rehab. Are there any characters or situations in this show that were directly inspired by your own experiences?
Yes, it’s all peppered throughout. That was actually one of the more freeing things about this, because in Feel Good I was playing myself, so my point of view often came through my character’s voice. So it was cool to be able to have aspects of [myself] in all the characters, but I think Leila is sort of the Mae character in this. She is maybe in need of a radical intervention, but has shame that she’s grappling with.
Your character, Alex, is a cop who isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. How did you prepare to play such a serious role?
I couldn’t get too in my head about it because I was so focused on the scripts and the production, which was good because I have imposter syndrome as an actor. But I really fell in love with acting making this, more than I ever have, because Sarah and Toni really emboldened me. I got a trainer and I got to run around—it was fun. But I did get a lot of feedback about my running, because it was not good. So the cast and crew helped me learn how to run without my elbows sticking out and my legs whipping around.
Did you not play any sports growing up?
No, I was smoking cigarettes.
What was it like watching Toni Collette bring Evelyn’s character to life? Did she make any choices that surprised you?
It was more that she exceeded our [expectations]. The thing about Evelyn is that everybody wants her love and approval, so she has to have warmth and charisma. The more Toni was on set talking about her character, the more I was like, “I think I would join this cult.” And Toni’s just so funny. She always plays the joke in such a grounded, character-driven way.
At the center of Evelyn’s “rehabilitative” methods is a desire to rid students of their intergenerational trauma. What made you want to use that particular topic as the crux of her teachings?
When I spoke to survivors of these programs, so much of it was about cutting kids off from their parents and their wider community. We all carry so much of our parents’ experience and their emotional worlds, so it’s a nice fantasy to be able to strip that away and see who you would have been if you grew up in the forest, basically, with none of that.
She also leads a brutal group therapy session where the students essentially take turns verbally eviscerating one another. What was the energy like on set when the younger actors were filming that scene?
They all got super close as a cast and were so present. I think that might have been the first time that they were all acting in front of Toni, so they really brought their A-game. And that attack therapy—we didn’t heighten that at all, really. In fact, in some of the stuff I read about the therapy that they do in these schools, it’s almost more theatrical than that. It’s really crazy. That idea of breaking people down and then building them up is so damaging.
In the last few minutes of the series, we see nearly every character make a different life-altering decision, but their actual fates are left up in the air. Was that level of ambiguity always what you imagined for the finale?
If I’m watching it, I’m wondering where all these characters are going to land morally, and if they’re going to make the choice to leave or stay. Maybe it feels ambiguous because some of the characters make choices that [the viewer] didn’t want them to make, but I like that Alex ultimately sacrifices so much of his critical thinking in order to have a comfortable life with his wife and baby. I think that’s a massive moral failing, but I sort of understand it. I understand Leila wanting to stay, and I’m happy Abbie gets out. I hope it’s satisfying enough that it doesn’t feel like you got ripped off, [but] I like that it’s a little bit muddy.
Just before the final scene, when it becomes clear that Alex stays with Laura and their newborn in Tall Pines, we see a sequence of him leaving Laura, taking the baby, and driving out of town with Abbie. What was the significance of that scene?
I think seeing the wish-fulfillment of him making the right choice and being the hero just makes the tragedy of him not [actually] doing that even more acute. You can see the person he wants to be, and how he views himself as this protector, and then you sort of leave him with the shame of not being able to do that.
I was really hoping that he had actually gotten out of there.
I really wanted to have that satisfying feeling of getting to see what it would look like. But he’s a pretty naive and insecure guy. Also, [while] filming that scene in the car, it was super late at night, freezing cold, and everyone was so tired, but Sydney and I were adamant that we were going to film—in between takes—the scene from The Sixth Sense where Toni is in the car with the kid and he’s like, “Grandma says hi.” So we filmed it shot for shot. I was Toni, and Sydney was [Haley Joel Osment].
Ok, release the tape…
Yeah, we have to. We just showed it to Toni on the press tour and she was like, “You’re insane.”
Aside from its commentary on the troubled teen industry, Wayward tackles some pretty heavy themes: trauma, oppression, addiction, grief. What’s the one message that you hope viewers will ultimately take away from the show?
I try not to write things with a message specifically, it’s more of an emotional reaction that I want to evoke. I hope it reconnects people with their inner rebellious teen, and I hope that it affects how they treat young people, as well. Now more than ever, I feel very passionate about empowering young people and not gaslighting them out of their very real anger and distress at the state of the world that we’re handing down to them.