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Many viewers know this disappointment. 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. During the hiatus, you were perusing Reddit threads with fellow enthusiasts to decode subtle references illuminating what would happen next.

And then season two’s premiere is a damp squib. The writing appears robotic and uninspired. By the next installment, your favorite cast member has done something that fans unanimously declare inconsistent. As the story progresses, it becomes obvious the creators forgot concerning narrative arcs clearly established previously. By the lackluster conclusion, you long for an earlier termination.

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, an amusing Greek myth parody with 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 prefer it had remained a self-contained narrative. Season one had a creatively abundant premise, with ten flawless installments. Aircraft disaster leaves a teen girls' team isolated in 1996. Excellent actors (including Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) portrayed the team then and now. Numerous awards recognition occurred, producers originally mapped out a five-season arc to develop the plot thoroughly. Recently, news broke of a season four conclusion. This news brought me relief.

The Stranger Things cast returns for season five.

The show has made narrative choices that have undermined its heart. Rather than leading with the girls’ return home, and their coping with awful experiences, the narrative expanded unnecessarily. This involved a wearying pattern of introducing peripheral figures (such as Shauna’s two-dimensional daughter Callie) who did nothing for the broader story. It's disappointing, and witnessing a great series decline into annoyance is disheartening.

A Growing Trend

However, Yellowjackets isn't alone. Shows such as Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things lack original impact, and settled into familiar patterns. Sometimes shows need to quit when they are ahead.

The thing is, there are joys to be had in a limited, “one-and-done” series. From Sharp Objects to I May Destroy You to Adolescence, writers understand when narratives find completion. But the game is over when shows such as Big Little Lies, initially a one-season story, extend endlessly with reduced impact. Perhaps Adolescence's team reconsidered a second season.

The Ideal Model

I desired Yellowjackets as a single-season show, living rent-free in our imaginations, mysteries intact. The best program I've seen succeeded this way. This beloved 90s drama, the quintessential youth program, ran for just one year but achieved film-like breadth: its characters were difficult and contradictory, the visuals were beautifully seasonal, and the scripts transcended typical youth dialogue. Its final episode was bitterly unresolved, but this reflects truth appropriately of never having real, definitive answers to the open-ended questions from your teenage years. After 18 perfect episodes (and one dodgy one), I felt devastated and created my own continuation to address unfinished business. Though stored on outdated technology, but it speaks to how deeply TV shows can chime with us.

The Sacred Bond

If writers recall the sacred audience-series connection, more series can conclude appropriately.

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