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This scenario is painfully common. The second series of your favorite TV show premieres online, and you're brimming with anticipation. Season one ended flawlessly: future plotlines were teased tantalisingly, and a protagonist met a mysterious end – or so it seemed. After the season wrapped, you delved into fan discussions with fellow enthusiasts to decode subtle references pointing toward upcoming twists.

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, a beloved actor's character acts in a way that viewers recognize as jarringly uncharacteristic. Halfway through the season, it becomes obvious the creators forgot regarding plot points heavily emphasized earlier. As the underwhelming ending arrives, you long for an earlier termination.

The Pitfall of Overextension

Regretting a show's continuation is hindsight; viewers usually oppose premature cancellations. Consider Kaos, a clever mythological satire starring Jeff Goldblum, which was binned by Netflix due to low viewing figures. Yet audiences can console themselves that their enjoyment of the series won’t have been muddied by a sophomore slump.

Looking back at the horror-mystery show Yellowjackets, I prefer it had remained a self-contained narrative. Season one had a creatively abundant premise, with ten flawless installments. In 1996, a plane carrying an all-girl high school football team crashes in the middle of nowhere. Top-notch cast members (featuring Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) portrayed the team then and now. Several prize nominations followed, and the showrunners proudly announced there would be five seasons to tell the story in necessary detail. Recently, news broke of a season four conclusion. And as a fan, I let out a sigh of relief.

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

Story decisions have weakened the core. In place of exploring post-rescue life, and watching how they deal with their horrific new secrets, the narrative expanded unnecessarily. A fatiguing tendency emerged of introducing peripheral figures (such as Shauna’s two-dimensional daughter Callie) who did nothing for the broader story. It’s frustrating, and as a viewer, it is depressing to see your favorite show morph slowly into a hate-watch.

An Increasing Pattern

But it’s not only Yellowjackets. Shows such as Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things have lost the shock of the new, and settled into familiar patterns. Occasionally, series should end on a high note.

Indeed, pleasures exist in single-season stories. Considering Sharp Objects, I May Destroy You, and Adolescence, writers understand when narratives find completion. Yet the spell breaks for programs including Big Little Lies, initially a one-season story, extend endlessly with reduced impact. Maybe Adolescence's creators hesitated about continuing.

The Perfect Example

I preferred Yellowjackets as a limited run, residing permanently in our thoughts, unresolved threads included. My top series ever followed this pattern. This beloved 90s drama, the ideal adolescent show, ran for just one year but achieved film-like breadth: its characters were difficult and contradictory, the visuals were beautifully seasonal, and the dialogue was untethered from the normal “teen speak written by a 35-year-old” trope. Its final episode was bitterly unresolved, but this reflects truth appropriately of adolescent uncertainties remaining perpetual. After 18 great episodes (and one mediocre), I mourned its end and drafted follow-up stories to address unfinished business. Though stored on outdated technology, it demonstrates television's powerful connection.

The Unique Connection

If TV creators can remember the sacrosanct relationship between viewers and shows, more programmes can bow out when the time is right.

• Priya Elan writes about the arts, music and fashion.