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Many viewers know this disappointment. The follow-up season of your favorite TV show has just begun streaming, and your mind is full of hopeful expectation. The initial run ended so perfectly: upcoming stories were hinted at provocatively, and a protagonist met a mysterious end – or so it seemed. During the hiatus, you delved into fan discussions with other hardcores to decode subtle references 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. In episode two, a key performer makes a choice that you and Reddit user Fishy2345 agree is totally out of character. Halfway through the season, it becomes obvious the creators forgot around the storylines aggressively signposted in season one. And by the disappointing finale, 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. Look at Kaos, a delightfully satirical take on Greek mythology featuring Jeff Goldblum, axed by Netflix because of weak audience numbers. Yet audiences can console themselves that the program avoided a disappointing second season.

Considering the thriller Yellowjackets, I now wish it had been a limited series. The first season boasted an inventive concept, with ten flawless installments. In 1996, a plane carrying an all-girl high school football team crashes in the middle of nowhere. Skilled performers (with Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) played the characters across timelines. Several prize nominations followed, 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. And as a fan, I let out a sigh of relief.

The Stranger Things cast returns for season five.

Story decisions have weakened the core. Instead of focusing on the survivors' reintegration, and watching how they deal with their horrific new secrets, the story grew padded and excessive. A fatiguing tendency emerged of introducing peripheral figures (including the flat character Callie) who did nothing for the broader story. It’s frustrating, and witnessing a great series decline into annoyance is disheartening.

A Common Phenomenon

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 settled into familiar patterns. At times, programs must stop while successful.

Indeed, pleasures exist in single-season stories. Considering Sharp Objects, I May Destroy You, and Adolescence, TV creators know when to stop when the story has naturally reached an endpoint. Yet the spell breaks for programs including Big Little Lies, initially a one-season story, come back for more and more with diminishing returns. Hopefully, Adolescence’s producers have thought twice about that rumoured season two.

The Ideal Model

I preferred Yellowjackets as a limited run, occupying our minds endlessly, unresolved threads included. My favorite TV show of all time has played out like that. My So-Called Life, the ideal adolescent show, ran for just one year yet felt epic in scale: its characters were difficult and contradictory, the visuals were beautifully seasonal, and the conversations avoided cliched adolescent writing. Its final episode was bitterly unresolved, but that is perfectly in keeping with the reality 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 resolve lingering mysteries. Though stored on outdated technology, it shows how series resonate profoundly.

The Special Relationship

When producers honor the special viewer-program bond, more series can conclude appropriately.

• This writer focuses on cultural topics.