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It's an all-too-familiar feeling. The second series of your top TV show premieres online, and you're brimming with anticipation. The initial run ended flawlessly: narrative threads were dangled enticingly, and a key figure faced a shocking fate – or did they?. During the hiatus, you delved into fan discussions with dedicated fans to find some Easter egg clues shedding light on future developments.

But the new season opener falls flat. It feels like the entire writers’ room has been fired and replaced by artificial intelligence. By the next installment, a beloved actor's character acts in a way that you and Reddit user Fishy2345 agree is totally out of character. As the story progresses, it’s clear that the showrunners have had collective amnesia around the storylines aggressively signposted in season one. By the lackluster conclusion, you long for an earlier termination.

The Curse of Too Many Seasons

Wanting a series to end early is often late realization; viewers usually oppose premature cancellations. Take Kaos, a clever mythological satire with Jeff Goldblum, axed by Netflix because of weak audience numbers. However, supporters might find comfort knowing the show's quality wasn't tarnished by a weak follow-up.

Reflecting on Yellowjackets, I currently desire it was a one-season story. The debut offered a richly imaginative setup, and every episode hit the right marks. Aircraft disaster leaves a teen girls' team isolated in 1996. Skilled performers (including Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) played the characters across timelines. Numerous awards recognition occurred, creators confidently planned five seasons to tell the story in necessary detail. But last week, it was announced that it would end with season four. I felt grateful as a viewer.

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

Plot twists have diluted the essence. Instead of focusing on the survivors' reintegration, and their struggle with traumatic memories, we were taken in directions that bloated the original premise. This involved a wearying pattern of bringing in and focusing on new characters (like the underdeveloped daughter Callie) who did nothing for the broader story. It’s frustrating, 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. Sometimes shows need to quit when they are ahead.

Indeed, pleasures exist in single-season stories. 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 Supreme Instance

I preferred Yellowjackets as a limited run, living rent-free in our imaginations, cliffhangers and all. My favorite TV show of all time has played out like that. This beloved 90s drama, the perfect 90s teen dramedy, lasted for only one season but was cinematic in its scope: the roles were challenging and multifaceted, the cinematography was perfectly autumnal, and the dialogue was untethered from the normal “teen speak written by a 35-year-old” trope. Its final episode was bitterly unresolved, but that is perfectly in keeping with the reality of adolescent uncertainties remaining perpetual. After 18 perfect episodes (and one dodgy one), I mourned its end and drafted follow-up stories to answer some of those questions. Despite existing on obsolete equipment, it demonstrates television's powerful connection.

The Special Relationship

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

• The author focuses on cultural topics.