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It's an all-too-familiar feeling. The follow-up season of your top TV show has just begun streaming, and you're brimming with anticipation. The initial run ended with such precision: upcoming stories were hinted at provocatively, and a protagonist met a mysterious end – or so it seemed. After the season wrapped, you scoured online forums with dedicated fans to decode subtle references pointing toward upcoming twists.

But the new season opener falls flat. The writing appears robotic and uninspired. Cut to the second episode, a key performer makes a choice that fans unanimously declare inconsistent. By episode five, it’s clear that the showrunners have had collective amnesia around the storylines aggressively signposted in season one. By the lackluster conclusion, you silently wish that the show had just been cancelled.

The Pitfall of Too Many Seasons

Wanting a series to end early is often late realization; most fans protest when their favorite shows are canned before they can get off the ground. Consider Kaos, a clever mythological satire starring Jeff Goldblum, axed by Netflix because of weak audience numbers. However, supporters might find comfort knowing their enjoyment of the series won’t have been muddied by a sophomore slump.

Reflecting on Yellowjackets, I prefer it had remained a self-contained narrative. The first season boasted an inventive concept, and every episode hit the right marks. In 1996, a plane carrying an all-girl high school football team crashes in the middle of nowhere. Skilled performers (including Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) depicted the survivors in dual eras. Numerous awards recognition occurred, creators confidently planned five seasons to tell the story in necessary detail. Recently, news broke of a season four conclusion. This news brought me relief.

Young actors prepare for Stranger Things' next chapter.

Plot twists have diluted the essence. In place of exploring post-rescue life, and their struggle with traumatic memories, the narrative expanded unnecessarily. That included the show’s tiring habit of highlighting added personalities (including the flat character Callie) with minimal impact on the main narrative. It’s frustrating, and watching a beloved program become tedious is sad.

A Common Phenomenon

Yet this issue extends beyond Yellowjackets. Programs including Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things have lost the shock of the new, and fallen headfirst into expected or comfortable cliches. Occasionally, series should end on a high note.

The thing is, there are joys to be had in a limited, “one-and-done” series. Looking at Sharp Objects, I May Destroy You, and Adolescence, TV creators know when to stop when the story has naturally reached an endpoint. However, the magic fades with series like Big Little Lies, initially a one-season story, return repeatedly with declining quality. Maybe Adolescence's creators hesitated about continuing.

The Perfect Example

I wish Yellowjackets could have been a one-and-done series, occupying our minds endlessly, mysteries intact. My top series ever followed this pattern. This beloved 90s drama, the perfect 90s teen dramedy, lasted for only one season yet felt epic in scale: the personalities were complex and inconsistent, the filming captured a fall aesthetic, and the scripts transcended typical youth dialogue. The conclusion provided no neat resolution, but that is perfectly in keeping with the reality of adolescent uncertainties remaining perpetual. After 18 perfect episodes (and one dodgy one), I was heartbroken and took to writing season two fan fiction myself to resolve lingering mysteries. Despite existing on obsolete equipment, it demonstrates television's powerful connection.

The Unique Connection

If writers recall the sacred audience-series connection, more shows can end gracefully.

• Priya Elan focuses on cultural topics.