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This scenario is painfully common. The second series of your beloved TV show has just begun streaming, and you're brimming with anticipation. The initial run ended flawlessly: upcoming stories were hinted at provocatively, and a protagonist met a mysterious end – or so it seemed. After the season wrapped, you delved into fan discussions with fellow enthusiasts to uncover hidden hints shedding light on future developments.

And then season two’s premiere is a damp squib. It feels like the entire writers’ room has been fired and replaced by artificial intelligence. By the next installment, a key performer makes a choice that fans unanimously declare inconsistent. By episode five, it’s clear that the showrunners have had collective amnesia regarding plot points heavily emphasized earlier. By the lackluster conclusion, you silently wish that the show had just been cancelled.

The Downside of Too Many Seasons

Regretting a show's continuation is hindsight; audiences frequently rally against early axings. Consider Kaos, a clever mythological satire starring Jeff Goldblum, which was binned by Netflix due to low viewing figures. But perhaps these fans will rest better with the knowledge their enjoyment of the series won’t have been muddied by a sophomore slump.

Looking back at the horror-mystery show Yellowjackets, I currently desire it was a one-season story. Season one had a creatively abundant premise, and its 10 episodes were note-perfect. Aircraft disaster leaves a teen girls' team isolated in 1996. Excellent actors (featuring Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) depicted the survivors in dual eras. There were multiple award nominations, producers originally mapped out a five-season arc to tell the story in necessary detail. Recently, news broke of a season four conclusion. I felt grateful as a viewer.

The Stranger Things cast returns for season five.

The show has made narrative choices that have undermined its heart. Instead of focusing on the survivors' reintegration, and their coping with awful experiences, the story grew padded and excessive. That included the show’s tiring habit of bringing in and focusing on new characters (such as Shauna’s two-dimensional daughter Callie) who added little to the overarching plot. It's disappointing, and witnessing a great series decline into annoyance is disheartening.

A Growing Trend

Yet this issue extends beyond Yellowjackets. Programs including Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things lack original impact, and embraced predictable tropes. At times, programs must stop while successful.

The thing is, there are joys to be had in a limited, “one-and-done” series. 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, first conceived as self-contained, come back for more and more with diminishing returns. Maybe Adolescence's creators hesitated about continuing.

The Supreme Instance

I wish Yellowjackets could have been a one-and-done series, living rent-free in our imaginations, unresolved threads included. The best program I've seen succeeded this way. My So-Called Life, the perfect 90s teen dramedy, concluded after a single run but was cinematic in its scope: its characters were difficult and contradictory, the visuals were beautifully seasonal, and the conversations avoided cliched adolescent writing. The ending left questions unanswered, but that is perfectly in keeping with the reality of adolescent uncertainties remaining perpetual. After 18 great episodes (and one mediocre), I felt devastated and created my own continuation to answer some of those questions. It might only live on an old hard drive, it demonstrates television's powerful connection.

The Sacred Bond

When producers honor the special viewer-program bond, more series can conclude appropriately.

• The author focuses on cultural topics.