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This scenario is painfully common. Season two of your favorite TV show premieres online, and optimism runs high. Season one ended with such precision: narrative threads were dangled enticingly, and a protagonist met a mysterious end – or so it seemed. In the months since the finale, you were perusing Reddit threads with fellow enthusiasts to decode subtle references shedding light on future developments.

But the new season opener falls flat. It feels like the entire writers’ room has been fired and replaced by artificial intelligence. In episode two, your favorite cast member has done something that fans unanimously declare inconsistent. As the story progresses, it’s clear that the showrunners have had collective amnesia concerning narrative arcs clearly established previously. As the underwhelming ending arrives, you privately hope it had ended sooner.

The Curse of Overextension

Regretting a show's continuation is hindsight; most fans protest when their favorite shows are canned before they can get off the ground. Consider Kaos, an amusing Greek myth parody featuring Jeff Goldblum, which was binned by Netflix due to low viewing figures. Yet audiences can console themselves that the show's quality wasn't tarnished by a weak follow-up.

Reflecting on Yellowjackets, I now wish it had been a limited series. The first season boasted an inventive concept, and its 10 episodes were note-perfect. A 1996 plane crash strands a female soccer team in wilderness. Skilled performers (featuring Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) depicted the survivors in dual eras. There were multiple award nominations, creators confidently planned five seasons to tell the story in necessary detail. But last week, it was announced that it would end with season four. This news brought me relief.

Gaten Matarazzo, Finn Wolfhard, Caleb McLaughlin and Noah Schnapp in the forthcoming fifth season of Stranger Things.

Story decisions have weakened the core. Rather than leading with the girls’ return home, and their struggle with traumatic memories, the narrative expanded unnecessarily. This involved a wearying pattern of highlighting added personalities (like the underdeveloped daughter Callie) with minimal impact on the main narrative. It's disappointing, and watching a beloved program become tedious is sad.

A Growing Trend

Yet this issue extends beyond Yellowjackets. Series like Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things lack original impact, and fallen headfirst into expected or comfortable cliches. At times, programs must stop while successful.

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, producers recognize appropriate conclusion points. However, the magic fades with series like Big Little Lies, initially a one-season story, extend endlessly with reduced impact. Maybe Adolescence's creators hesitated about continuing.

The Perfect Example

I desired Yellowjackets as a single-season show, occupying our minds endlessly, mysteries intact. My favorite TV show of all time has played out like that. My So-Called Life, the quintessential youth program, concluded after a single run yet felt epic in scale: its characters were difficult and contradictory, the cinematography was perfectly autumnal, and the dialogue was untethered from the normal “teen speak written by a 35-year-old” trope. Its final episode was bitterly unresolved, but that is perfectly in keeping with the reality of adolescent uncertainties remaining perpetual. After 18 perfect episodes (and one dodgy one), I mourned its end and drafted follow-up stories to resolve lingering mysteries. It might only live on an old hard drive, but it speaks to how deeply TV shows can chime with us.

The Special Relationship

If writers recall the sacred audience-series connection, more programmes can bow out when the time is right.

• The author focuses on cultural topics.