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This scenario is painfully common. The second series of your beloved TV show drops on your platform, and your mind is full of hopeful expectation. The initial run ended with such precision: narrative threads were dangled enticingly, and a key figure faced a shocking fate – or did they?. In the months since the finale, you scoured online forums with other hardcores to decode subtle references illuminating what would happen next.

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, a beloved actor's character acts in a way that viewers recognize as jarringly uncharacteristic. By episode five, the writers appear to have memory loss regarding plot points heavily emphasized earlier. As the underwhelming ending arrives, you long for an earlier termination.

The Pitfall of Overextension

Wanting a series to end early is often late realization; viewers usually oppose premature cancellations. Consider Kaos, a delightfully satirical take on Greek mythology with Jeff Goldblum, axed by Netflix because of weak audience numbers. But perhaps these fans will rest better with the knowledge their enjoyment of the series won’t have been muddied by a sophomore slump.

Looking back at the horror-mystery show Yellowjackets, I prefer it had remained a self-contained narrative. The debut offered a richly imaginative setup, with ten flawless installments. A 1996 plane crash strands a female soccer team in wilderness. Excellent actors (with Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) portrayed the team then and now. There were multiple award nominations, producers originally mapped out a five-season arc to tell the story in necessary detail. However, a season four finale was just confirmed. I felt grateful as a viewer.

Young actors prepare for Stranger Things' next chapter.

The show has made narrative choices that have undermined its heart. Instead of focusing on the survivors' reintegration, and their struggle with traumatic memories, the narrative expanded unnecessarily. A fatiguing tendency emerged of introducing peripheral figures (such as Shauna’s two-dimensional daughter Callie) who added little to the overarching plot. It's disappointing, and as a viewer, it is depressing to see your favorite show morph slowly into a hate-watch.

A Common Phenomenon

However, Yellowjackets isn't alone. Series like Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things have lost the shock of the new, and settled into familiar patterns. Occasionally, series should end on a high note.

Indeed, pleasures exist in single-season stories. Looking at Sharp Objects, I May Destroy You, and Adolescence, writers understand when narratives find completion. Yet the spell breaks for programs including Big Little Lies, initially a one-season story, return repeatedly with declining quality. Maybe Adolescence's creators hesitated about continuing.

The Supreme Instance

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. This beloved 90s drama, the ideal adolescent show, concluded after a single run yet felt epic in scale: its characters were difficult and contradictory, the filming captured a fall aesthetic, and the dialogue was untethered from the normal “teen speak written by a 35-year-old” trope. Its final episode was bitterly unresolved, yet this mirrors real life accurately of youth queries staying forever open. After 18 perfect episodes (and one dodgy one), I mourned its end and drafted follow-up stories to answer some of those questions. It might only live on an old hard drive, it demonstrates television's powerful connection.

The Unique Connection

When producers honor the special viewer-program bond, more programmes can bow out when the time is right.

• This writer focuses on cultural topics.