"Always better to be
the person holding the gun than the person running
from the gunman." Wendy Byrde is a “mob wife”
for the post-#metoo era. Her husband, Marty,
may have been the one first hired to launder money
for the Mexican Navarro drug cartel, but over time Ozark’s
resident housewife-turned-badass reveals herself to be
the star criminal mastermind in the family. “You’re not just involved
with the cartel. You are the cartel.” If we look at the evolution
of criminal wives onscreen, Wendy is a step forward
for all that she’s not: she’s not just a victim,
a complicit supporting player, a cartoonishly villainous femme fatale,
or a reflection on her husband’s descent into darkness. Wendy outshines her spouse in strategic cunning,
drive, and lust for power. “I’m losing patience with your husband.”
“Get in line.” She’s arguably the smartest
and most ambitious character in the show. ”Do you really think
she's smarter than you are?” “No. (laughs)” And crucially,
Wendy’s “thirst for more” feels symbolic of a deeper,
universal female dissatisfaction -- one which might make her story
resonate with and awaken something in viewers who also feel
they’re lacking an outlet for their own hidden power.
Here’s our Take on how Wendy --
the criminal wife who surpasses her man --
reflects our present moment, and how we can learn
from this antiheroine’s political brilliance
to take back our power and seize a bigger life for ourselves. “Quite frankly,
I don’t give a s-[BLEEP] if you like it or not,
cause I feel pretty good about it.” If you’re new here,
be sure to subscribe. And hit the bell to be notified
about all of our new videos. “My day was very exciting.
I went to Costco. And then I went and got groceries.
And then I-- I-- dropped off the recyclables.” Before they move to the Ozarks,
Wendy is an affluent, well-educated housewife
who’s so bored and depressed that she barely feels alive,
and a lot of what she says and does feels forced. “Think about your trampoline.
I mean, your father and I fought about getting that for years,
and then all of a sudden, what happened?
The next thing you know, the two of us were doing back flips
out there with you.” In the flashback episode,
“Kaleidoscope,” we see Wendy was never happy
with the life of a full-time mom and housewife. “If we did have this baby, I mean,
would I ever go back to work again? I just don’t see how
that would ever happen, and that’s something
I— I— I need to do.” She displays strikingly
different levels of engagement in her home and work spheres -- a genuine spark
when she’s talking about politics -- “And I understand that
the future of campaigning is online.” -- compared with a desperate,
exaggerated sweetness as she tries to play
the ideal ‘mommy’ to young Charlotte. “But if you get a job,
you won’t be here as much.” “Oh sweetheart,
I will always be here for you.” Wendy sees herself as much too smart,
too much of a professional asset, not to return to the workplace
after becoming a mother, “My resume clearly tells you
I can do this job.” yet she finds this world is
now closed to her. “You last worked on it in…”
“Um… 2002. I was really pregnant with my daughter Charlotte
at the time. Honestly, I didn’t think
I was gonna make it.” Wendy has to redefine
how she sees herself, “I-- I work for political campaigns.
Or I used to anyway.” which leads to a breakdown. “That’s how I’ve been feeling…
just like a fraud.” She rebounds from this depression
by throwing herself into seeking unattainable perfection
and total control in her home life. And when that eludes her,
she gets used to gritting her teeth and smiling to maintain at least
the image of perfection. “… a family is like a small business. And with a small business,
at times, there comes--” “Transition.” “— a bit of a transition.
Thank you Wendy.” After he starts money laundering, Marty shuts off
from Wendy and the kids. “It’s not your fault.
I was just shut down, you know?” Her lonely attempt to play
the perfect happy housewife leaves her feeling so numb,
this culminates in her affair, “I was unhappy,
you’re not exactly blameless in this.” which she begins ostensibly
just to feel something. “… because I wanted to be someone else,
I wanted to live a different life.” After the Byrdes have to suddenly
move to the Ozarks and fight for their lives,
Wendy makes an intense effort to maintain a sense of normalcy
for the family, captured in the extreme lengths
she goes to to track down the specific flavor of ice cream
Charlotte has casually requested. “I drove an hour and a half to come
to this particular supermarket because one of your employees
they told me that you had pistachio ice cream…”
“Yes, ma’am, I understand.” “NO! I don’t think you do!” Yet in the same episode,
when Wendy is confronted with actual problems,
that unhinged, tense person is replaced by someone who’s cool-headed
and in control. “She was calm.
They were unified in their story.” Just as she’s finally gotten
Charlotte’s pistachio ice cream home to her kitchen,
vultures descend on a dead animal the Langmore boys have left on her lawn
as a message. Leaving the ice cream to melt
on the counter, she speeds to the Langmore house
to lay down the law: “You f-[BLEEP] with my daughter,
you come near my house again, it’ll be you the vultures are
pickin’ at.” So later, when Charlotte doesn’t show
the slightest appreciation for the hell Wendy went through
for that ice cream, “It’s melted.” Wendy no longer even seems concerned. “It’ll be in the freezer
when you want it.” She’s satisfied
because she’s asserted her power in a much more important way
to protect her daughter that day. Multiple scenes
in Wendy’s early characterization express this split
in her personality -- between the languishing
stay-at-home-mom who’s privately despairing
under a tightly wound smile, and the self-possessed businesswoman
who, no matter how dire the threat, is unflappable. “Just to be clear,
this casino is happening.” As the Byrdes settle
into their new life of escalating criminal involvement
in the Ozarks, Wendy sheds
her former conventional-mom persona, making increasingly dangerous,
gutsy moves. But what we’re seeing here
is not Wendy changing, but Wendy showing her true colors. “Y’know I really don’t think
that’d be in your best interest.” At the beginning of Season Three,
when she impulsively breaks into the family’s former Chicago home
to cause chaos and feel the thrill of unnecessary risk
we might recall her telling Marty she did these exact things as a youth. “… I'd move picture frames around.
I’d… turn toothbrushes upside down. I—“ As she gets deeper
into her life of crime, Wendy is accessing a part of herself
she has buried. She’s finding herself,
for the first time since having her children--
maybe even longer. “This is the first time
I’ve recognized my sister in years.” After essentially having been told
that the legitimate routes in the career she loves
aren’t open to her anymore, “You seem like a nice woman
and clearly you’re qualified. So’s everyone else, and they’re coming off
recent campaigns.” she’s at last regaining
a sense of self-worth in the only world
where she can be free to realize herself and feel alive. “… and whether you’ve accepted it
or not, you’re a criminal, Wendy.” As Wendy gains power
through her new criminal life, she also becomes
a different kind of mother than we’re used to seeing onscreen. She crosses traditional boundaries
in her home life, until her kids essentially
become her new colleagues. “I mean would it be possible
to open an offshore account with that?” “You wanna launder money through it?
... I can do it.”
“Just this once.” And while this may be twisted -- a far cry from our preconceptions
of family ideals -- eventually her new relationship
with her children emerges as more honest,
and therefore, more solid. At the beginning of the series
she’s vying unsuccessfully for her kids’ approval
while trying to shield them with lies. “But we’re a family,
so we are— we’re making this move as a family
- we would prefer if you would… see it as an adventure.” Yet after she allows her kids in
to all the dirty truths, Charlotte and Jonah not only become
more mature, competent individuals; they also become rocks for the family, who empathize with
and help their parents. “She'll never trust me again.” “Uh… We thought that.
You’re gonna get her back.” Increasingly, Wendy’s desire
to be the perfect mother, or to live up to some idealized image
of the perfect family, takes a back seat to following
the deeper natural instincts that drive her as an individual. “Because if you really want
to do them a favour, and by that I mean
save their f-[BLEEP]-ing lives, then get them out here right now,
we’ll get in my car
and get of here right now--”
“Get the f-[BLEEP] off our property!” In Season 3, when Agent Miller tells Wendy
to do what’s best for her family, “I want you to do
what’s best for your family.” Wendy’s hard demeanor and response
reminds us that this woman has spent many years
putting her family above everything else, to the degree of erasing herself. And she knows that it doesn’t work
to live totally for others. “I mean, you wanna know
why Jonah is laundering money? Because he wants to prove to you
he’s useful so that you have to pay some attention to him.” Ultimately, when it comes down to it,
Wendy is even willing to sacrifice
the life of her own brother
to preserve the new life she’s built for herself
while keeping her nuclear family safe. “She will kill my children!” As deeply distraught as Wendy is
over her role in her brother’s death --
and as clear as it is
that she genuinely loves him --
she still manages to return
to being a professional after. “She killed your brother!” “Helen’s our partner.
We have no choice but to work with her.” This is where it becomes apparent
that the great love of Wendy’s life is not her husband, children, or family,
but the place where she gets to put her shrewd mind into action: work. “I’m ready to go back to work.” “… and you’re the wife
of the top money launderer for the second largest drug cartel
in Mexico. Go!” The movie gangster wife or girlfriend is frequently reduced to being simply
the sweet, pretty victim, of a man who’s either a brutal psychopath
or a sinner who can’t quit the game. “(singing)… just from waiting around
for that plain little band of gold, a person can develop a cold.” The early onscreen mob wife
tends to be used as a plot device without agency,
an outlet for male anger, or a symbol to illustrate
how evil he's become. “Would you do me a favor please?
Would you kill me?”
On the other end of the spectrum,
gangster molls in film noir could be purely wicked femme fatales -- “I’m poison, Swede,
to myself and everybody around me.” -- exciting and ambitious, yet
largely one-dimensional Lady Macbeths, whose legacy can be seen
in modern iterations like House of Cards’ Claire Underwood
and A Most Violent Year’s Anna Morales. "I want him obliterated." “More than that.
Let's make him suffer." Over time, films complicated
this picture with criminal wives who were combinations of complicit,
rebellious, high-minded and trapped. In the 70s, Kay in The Godfather
represented a stronger, moralizing obstacle
to mafia boss Michael Corleone, one who does manage to defy him, “It was a son! A SON!
And I had it killed, because this must ALL END!” yet in the end is
still unable to escape. Michelle Pfeiffer’s Elvira in Scarface
and Sharon Stone’s Ginger in Casino embody the “kept” mob wife,
a fiercely independent and charismatic woman
who chafes against but eventually unravels
under her controlling husband’s oppression. Goodfellas’ Karen is drawn to
mobster Henry Hill because of the status
and power his life of crime provides. “One night Bobby Vinton
sent us champagne. There was nothing like it.” So when she is later badly victimized
by her husband, she’s still, to a degree, culpable. “Where’s that stuff that I left,
Karen?” “I flushed it down the toilet.”
“You what?” “What was I supposed to do?
They were all over the house.” And starting in 1999,
The Sopranos’ Carmela Soprano, the template for the modern mob wife
on TV, likewise knew exactly who her mafioso husband Tony
was when she got involved with him. “The minute I met Tony,
I knew who that guy was.” “Y’know whether consciously or not,
I knew that behind that power drill, there was probably some guy
with a broken arm… you know or— or worse.” But the show explores the ways that Carmela compartmentalizes
and papers over this awareness, “He’s a good man,
he’s a good father.” while enjoying
the materialistic spoils of Tony’s ill-gotten success. “All I do is make sure he's got clean clothes in his closet,
and dinner on his table.” “So, enabler would be
a more accurate job description for you than accomplice.” This woman protects her self-image
by viewing herself as a devout Catholic, loving mother,
and long-suffering wife, “What the fuck was that for?”
“I’ll write you up a list.” but when push comes to shove, she, too, engages in mafioso-style bribery,
bullying and force to get her way. “I don't think you understand. I want you to write that letter.”
“Excuse me?” “I said I want you
to write the letter.” “Are you threatening me?” Most recently,
Skyler White from Breaking Bad begins by embodying
the mob-wife-as moral-obstacle to her husband Walt’s
criminal ambitions, before becoming his hostage, “I’m not your wife,
I’m your hostage” his accomplice,
and ultimately ending up his deeply damaged victim. “(Crying) If I have to hear
one more time that you did this for the family—”
“I did it for me.” As another story
about an intelligent family man who gets deeply involved
in the drug trade, Ozark can’t help but draw comparisons with Breaking Bad,
and at first Wendy -- another smart blonde mother of two --
might seem like an update to Skyler, correcting aspects
of that character’s writing that let some viewers feel justified
in cheering Walt on against his “nag” wife. But ultimately Wendy isn’t
really a Skyler -- she’s more like her story’s
Walter White. “What I do, I do for my family.” “I am trying to build a future
for our family.” Like Walt, she’s the one in her story who feels overlooked by her world,
who knows deep down that she’s an unappreciated genius,
who wants a bigger life, and who -- the more she tastes
of this dangerous existence, the more she likes it. “I was alive.” “Because fighting for your life
makes every other thing you ever did before
seem extremely dull.” In the same flashback
where we witness Wendy getting forced into her track as a stay-at-home mom,
we learn that Wendy actually approved of Marty’s initial decision
to get involved with the cartel. “Then I guess,
we’re really gonna do this?” While she’s expected
to be automatically opposed, like many of her onscreen
criminal wife predecessors would be, “He was counting on YOU
shutting it down instantly.” “Mmm. Well…
he doesn’t know me like you do.” all along, Wendy has been the one
who’s saying yes to risk -- because she wants more. Traditionally,
the onscreen criminal wife’s first priority is to keep her family
out of danger. But as Wendy’s power-hunger drives her to get more deeply involved
with the Navarro cartel, she’s also making the decision
to put her family into more danger. As Marty increasingly looks
for a way out, “We’re gonna get out of it.
We need six months and then we’re free, Wendy.” Wendy separates herself from him, building a direct business relationship
with the cartel boss himself, Navarro. “Wendy Byrde.”
“I wasn’t sure if I should call you…” So over the seasons,
it becomes abundantly clear that it isn’t Marty but Wendy
who’s determining the show’s arc
and driving the destiny
of the Byrde family. “Well I used the money
from the Chicago house and I bought it. Now I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure
you could inflate construction costs and you can launder money through it.” In this honest, unflinching look
at female criminality (not just through Wendy,
but also in Darlene, Ruth and Helen), Ozark replaces the male character as the assumed driver
in any story about crime with his more conniving,
manipulative female counterpart, “We— We could be the very legitimate,
very public face of Missouri gaming!” whose motivations are also fleshed out
with a complexity that’s traditionally been reserved
only for the male Antihero. “Besides, little girls need to learn
to be on their toes.” “And quarter wits need to take
their advice and shove it before what’s left
of their brains leaks out.” And this is important
because no longer is the crime wife just responding or reacting
to her husband -- a commentary on what he does. The women in Ozark are
the characters we’re fascinated by -- the ones who keep us wondering
how far they’re willing to go. “… when the bride
who took your breath away, becomes the wife who makes you
hold your breath in terror?” As Ozark progresses,
we’re presented with a new structure for the mob family:
one with the wife on top. “It’s a good idea.
And I did it for our family. What’d you do today?” “I always thought
you shoulda stayed in politics. You coulda been a big deal.”
“I can still be a big deal.”
While Marty’s
“numbers guy” intelligence is like that of a computer,
and he’s shut off from his emotions, “I’m an accountant.
I move numbers around.” Wendy’s genius is
that of a master manipulator who sees into people’s motivations and plays their desires and
temperaments against them. “I’ve learned what people really want” In short: she’s the perfect politician. “You’re not dogs and goats. You’re clearance codes
and fundraisers on yachts.” Campaign Insider’s David Rosen
identifies six political personality types, and of these Wendy’s
most resembles The Machiavellian “It’s just a game, right?
The ends always justify the means. “Yeah.” As Rosen describes, “Machiavellian personalities are
master manipulators. They walk into a room
and immediately begin sizing people up to identify their interests and exploit
their personality weaknesses for personal and political gain. Winning is everything;
the rest is negotiable.”
“I’m no fan of Charles’ politics
but Missouri is tilting red and...
reaching across the aisle
is the only way to get anything done.” Also like a master politician,
Wendy uses her innocent smile
and her perfect-wife-and-mother facade
as a front. “I know how to sell
the idea of a happy family.” Ironically, as she stops trying
to be the perfect wife and mom, Wendy gets better at playing
that shiny-looking persona for a public. Meanwhile, her actions become more and more chilling
and cold-blooded. Where Marty falters,
Wendy remains calculating, “Ruth Langmore’s father’s dead.” unemotional “…that would’ve been a very bad idea.” and remorseless. “She almost died
because of what we did. Or she almost died
because she’s a drug addict.” Her politician’s resolve means that
she can hide her feelings even when she’s internally furious “You do know about the deal, don’t you? (barely flinching) We discussed it. And you know he was about to take it
before he was dragged to Me- Kansas City.”
“I do.” or distraught and panicked. “Search and seizure laws now say
we’re not required to answer any of your questions,
and if you wanna search this vehicle you’re gonna have to get a warrant.” She’ll never let the cracks
show to outsiders. “Goddamnit,
what are you trying to do to me?” Wendy’s intelligence is
rewarding to watch because we get to participate in it. So often
with ‘smart’ characters onscreen, we’re either told a lot
about their genius without really seeing it in action
or we watch them pull off superheroic intellectual feats
but aren’t really given a view into how their minds are working. “What is it like
in your funny little brains? It must be so boring” On Ozark, we get to see
how Wendy’s mind operates, and be impressed by it. “Who’s he with? “Steve Simmons,
Chief Compliance Officer.” “Hmm. Someone’s been studying.”
“Mmm. You’re surprised?” She’s incredibly emotionally astute, genuinely interested in
what drives other people, and forges connections
by uncovering their needs. “We are all parents here
and if this war goes wrong, what can you leave your kids?” She does her research on
who she’s talking to so she can better manipulate them. “And I refute anybody who says that Christian values
and capitalism can't coexist.” Like any brilliant politician,
she can effortlessly deflect “The casino deal is completely legal.” But she’s also honest when it benefits “You’re trying to buy me.
“Yes, I am. And I am also trying
to do some good here.” She’ll happily become vulnerable
if it works as part of a wider plan. “I fell into my own depression
when I lost a child.” People become invested in Wendy. Strikingly, though, they tend to end up
disillusioned with her “We may have dipped our toe
in the friendship pool, but I’m not sure we’re gonna swim.”
“Fine with me.” After they inevitably
glimpse the real Wendy -- not the persona
she shape-shifted into to win them, but a woman who’s willing to do whatever it takes
to get what she wants -- which is (as for many a politician)
always more power. Like a combination
of Walter White and Lady Macbeth “Will these hands ne’er be clean?” Wendy is the character
we watch pushing moral boundaries,
at risk of going over an edge
she can’t recover from, and struggling
with the spiritual consequences of her choices. “Adam and Eve
probably grabbed that apple because they were f-[BLEEP]-ing starving
and it was the first tree they saw.” And it’s refreshing to see a formidable woman
leading us in these dark inquiries, “Never let a good crisis go to waste.” Wendy sends a message
to bored housewives everywhere, that it’s never too late
to turn your life around - whether that’s for good or evil. “Because this is who I am.
And this is who I wanna be.” Hi everyone, I’m Susannah. I’m Debra
and we’re the creators of the Take. Please subscribe and tell us what you want
our take on next.
