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This scenario is painfully common. The follow-up season of your top TV show premieres online, and you're brimming with anticipation. Season one ended with such precision: future plotlines were teased tantalisingly, 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.

And then season two’s premiere is a damp squib. It seems as if the creative team was swapped for algorithms. By the next installment, your favorite cast member has done something that fans unanimously declare inconsistent. Halfway through the season, it becomes obvious the creators forgot concerning narrative arcs clearly established previously. As the underwhelming ending arrives, you long for an earlier termination.

The Curse of Overextension

Wishing for cancellation can only be retrospective; audiences frequently rally against early axings. Take Kaos, a delightfully satirical take on Greek mythology with Jeff Goldblum, which Netflix dropped over poor ratings. 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. In 1996, a plane carrying an all-girl high school football team crashes in the middle of nowhere. Excellent actors (with Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) played the characters across timelines. Several prize nominations followed, producers originally mapped out a five-season arc to fully explore the narrative. Recently, news broke of a season four conclusion. I felt grateful as a viewer.

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

The show has made narrative choices that have undermined its heart. Instead of focusing on the survivors' reintegration, and their struggle with traumatic memories, we were taken in directions that bloated the original premise. That included the show’s tiring habit of highlighting added personalities (such as Shauna’s two-dimensional daughter Callie) who added little to the overarching plot. It's aggravating, and witnessing a great series decline into annoyance is disheartening.

A Growing Trend

But it’s not only Yellowjackets. Shows such as Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things lack original impact, and embraced predictable tropes. Occasionally, series should end on a high note.

Actually, benefits come from self-contained series. From Sharp Objects to I May Destroy You to Adolescence, producers recognize appropriate conclusion points. But the game is over when shows such as Big Little Lies, originally a limited series, extend endlessly with reduced impact. Hopefully, Adolescence’s producers have thought twice about that rumoured season two.

The Supreme Instance

I desired Yellowjackets as a single-season show, living rent-free in our imaginations, unresolved threads included. My top series ever followed this pattern. My So-Called Life, the quintessential youth program, concluded after a single run but was cinematic in its scope: the roles were challenging and multifaceted, the visuals were beautifully seasonal, and the conversations avoided cliched adolescent writing. The ending left questions unanswered, yet this mirrors real life accurately of never having real, definitive answers to the open-ended questions from your teenage years. Following 18 excellent installments (plus one weak one), I felt devastated and created my own continuation to answer some of those questions. Despite existing on obsolete equipment, it shows how series resonate profoundly.

The Unique Connection

If writers recall the sacred audience-series connection, more shows can end gracefully.

• The author focuses on cultural topics.