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This scenario is painfully common. Season two of your beloved TV show drops on your platform, and your mind is full of hopeful expectation. Season one ended flawlessly: narrative threads were dangled enticingly, and a protagonist met a mysterious end – or so it seemed. During the hiatus, you delved into fan discussions with other hardcores to find some Easter egg clues 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 key performer makes a choice that viewers recognize as jarringly uncharacteristic. As the story progresses, the writers appear to have memory loss around the storylines aggressively signposted in season one. And by the disappointing finale, you privately hope it had ended sooner.

The Curse of Too Many Seasons

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, a delightfully satirical take on Greek mythology starring Jeff Goldblum, which was binned by Netflix due to low viewing figures. But perhaps these fans will rest better with the knowledge the program avoided a disappointing second season.

Reflecting on Yellowjackets, I currently desire it was a one-season story. Season one had a creatively abundant premise, and every episode hit the right marks. Aircraft disaster leaves a teen girls' team isolated in 1996. Top-notch cast members (including Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) depicted the survivors in dual eras. Numerous awards recognition occurred, creators confidently planned five seasons to fully explore the narrative. But last week, it was announced that it would end with season four. And as a fan, I let out a sigh of relief.

The Stranger Things cast returns for season five.

The show has made narrative choices that have undermined its heart. In place of exploring post-rescue life, and watching how they deal with their horrific new secrets, the narrative expanded unnecessarily. This involved a wearying pattern of introducing peripheral figures (like the underdeveloped daughter Callie) who did nothing for the broader story. It's disappointing, and as a viewer, it is depressing to see your favorite show morph slowly into a hate-watch.

An Increasing Pattern

Yet this issue extends beyond Yellowjackets. Programs including Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things have lost the shock of the new, 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, originally a limited series, return repeatedly with declining quality. Hopefully, Adolescence’s producers have thought twice about that rumoured season two.

The Perfect Example

I preferred Yellowjackets as a limited run, residing permanently in our thoughts, mysteries intact. My top series ever followed this pattern. My So-Called Life, the quintessential youth program, lasted for only one season yet felt epic in scale: the roles were challenging and multifaceted, the visuals were beautifully seasonal, and the scripts transcended typical youth dialogue. The conclusion provided no neat resolution, 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. It might only live on an old hard drive, it shows how series resonate profoundly.

The Unique Connection

If TV creators can remember the sacrosanct relationship between viewers and shows, more series can conclude appropriately.

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