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This scenario is painfully common. The second series of your top TV show has just begun streaming, and optimism runs high. Season one ended flawlessly: future plotlines were teased tantalisingly, and a protagonist met a mysterious end – or so it seemed. In the months since the finale, you scoured online forums with fellow enthusiasts to find some Easter egg clues pointing toward upcoming twists.

And then season two’s premiere is a damp squib. It feels like the entire writers’ room has been fired and replaced by artificial intelligence. Cut to the second episode, a beloved actor's character acts in a way that viewers recognize as jarringly uncharacteristic. As the story progresses, it’s clear that the showrunners have had collective amnesia concerning narrative arcs clearly established previously. And by the disappointing finale, you privately hope it had ended sooner.

The Curse of Overextension

Wanting a series to end early is often late realization; audiences frequently rally against early axings. Consider Kaos, a delightfully satirical take on Greek mythology featuring Jeff Goldblum, which was binned by Netflix due to low viewing figures. Yet audiences can console themselves that the show's quality wasn't tarnished by a weak follow-up.

Considering the thriller Yellowjackets, I now wish it had been a limited series. The first season boasted an inventive concept, and every episode hit the right marks. A 1996 plane crash strands a female soccer team in wilderness. Skilled performers (including Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) depicted the survivors in dual eras. Several prize nominations followed, creators confidently planned five seasons to fully explore the narrative. Recently, news broke of a season four conclusion. And as a fan, I let out a sigh of relief.

Young actors prepare for Stranger Things' next chapter.

Plot twists have diluted the essence. Rather than leading with the girls’ return home, and their struggle with traumatic memories, we were taken in directions that bloated the original premise. That included the show’s tiring habit of bringing in and focusing on new characters (like the underdeveloped daughter Callie) with minimal impact on the main narrative. It's disappointing, and watching a beloved program become tedious is sad.

A Growing Trend

Yet this issue extends beyond Yellowjackets. Shows such as Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things no longer surprise audiences, and settled into familiar patterns. Sometimes shows need to quit when they are ahead.

Actually, benefits come from self-contained series. From Sharp Objects to I May Destroy You to Adolescence, TV creators know when to stop when the story has naturally reached an endpoint. However, the magic fades with series like Big Little Lies, first conceived as self-contained, return repeatedly with declining quality. Perhaps Adolescence's team reconsidered a second season.

The Perfect Example

I preferred Yellowjackets as a limited run, living rent-free in our imaginations, unresolved threads included. My top series ever followed this pattern. My So-Called Life, the ideal adolescent show, concluded after a single run yet felt epic in scale: the roles were challenging and multifaceted, the visuals were beautifully seasonal, and the conversations avoided cliched adolescent writing. Its final episode was bitterly unresolved, 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 resolve lingering mysteries. Despite existing on obsolete equipment, it shows how series resonate profoundly.

The Sacred Bond

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

• This writer focuses on cultural topics.