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This scenario is painfully common. The second series of your favorite TV show drops on your platform, and your mind is full of hopeful expectation. The debut season ended flawlessly: narrative threads were dangled enticingly, 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 shedding light on future developments.

But the new season opener falls flat. The writing appears robotic and uninspired. By the next installment, a beloved actor's character acts in a way that viewers recognize as jarringly uncharacteristic. Halfway through the season, it’s clear that the showrunners have had collective amnesia regarding plot points heavily emphasized earlier. And by the disappointing finale, you privately hope it had ended sooner.

The Curse of Overextension

Wanting a series to end early is often late realization; viewers usually oppose premature cancellations. Take Kaos, a clever mythological satire starring Jeff Goldblum, which Netflix dropped over poor ratings. Yet audiences can console themselves that their enjoyment of the series won’t have been muddied by a sophomore slump.

Considering the thriller Yellowjackets, I now wish it had been a limited series. The debut offered a richly imaginative setup, with ten flawless installments. 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) played the characters across timelines. Numerous awards recognition occurred, 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. I felt grateful as a viewer.

Young actors prepare for Stranger Things' next chapter.

Story decisions have weakened the core. Instead of focusing on the survivors' reintegration, and their struggle with traumatic memories, the story grew padded and excessive. A fatiguing tendency emerged of bringing in and focusing on new characters (including the flat character Callie) with minimal impact on the main narrative. It's disappointing, and watching a beloved program become tedious is sad.

A Growing Trend

However, Yellowjackets isn't alone. Programs including Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things lack original impact, and settled into familiar patterns. At times, programs must stop while successful.

Actually, benefits come from self-contained series. Considering Sharp Objects, I May Destroy You, and Adolescence, producers recognize appropriate conclusion points. However, the magic fades with series like Big Little Lies, originally a limited series, return repeatedly with declining quality. Hopefully, Adolescence’s producers have thought twice about that rumoured season two.

The Ideal Model

I wish Yellowjackets could have been a one-and-done series, residing permanently in our thoughts, mysteries intact. The best program I've seen succeeded this way. My So-Called Life, the quintessential youth program, lasted for only one season yet felt epic in scale: its characters were difficult and contradictory, the filming captured a fall aesthetic, and the conversations avoided cliched adolescent writing. Its final episode was bitterly unresolved, but that is perfectly in keeping with the reality of adolescent uncertainties remaining perpetual. Following 18 excellent installments (plus one weak one), I mourned its end and drafted follow-up stories to answer some of those questions. Though stored on outdated technology, it shows how series resonate profoundly.

The Unique Connection

When producers honor the special viewer-program bond, more shows can end gracefully.

• The author writes about the arts, music and fashion.