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This scenario is painfully common. Season two of your top TV show has just begun streaming, and you're brimming with anticipation. The debut season ended flawlessly: 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 illuminating what would happen next.

But the new season opener falls flat. The writing appears robotic and uninspired. 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’s clear that the showrunners have had collective amnesia concerning narrative arcs clearly established previously. As the underwhelming ending arrives, you privately hope it had ended sooner.

The Curse of Too Many Seasons

Regretting a show's continuation is hindsight; most fans protest when their favorite shows are canned before they can get off the ground. Take Kaos, a clever mythological satire featuring Jeff Goldblum, which was binned by Netflix due to low viewing figures. However, supporters might find comfort knowing 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, and every episode hit the right marks. Aircraft disaster leaves a teen girls' team isolated in 1996. Skilled performers (featuring Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) played the characters across timelines. There were multiple award nominations, producers originally mapped out a five-season arc to tell the story in necessary detail. But last week, it was announced that it would end with season four. And as a fan, I let out a sigh of relief.

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. In place of exploring post-rescue life, and watching how they deal with their horrific new secrets, the narrative expanded unnecessarily. That included the show’s tiring habit of highlighting added personalities (like the underdeveloped daughter Callie) who did nothing for the broader story. It's aggravating, 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. Programs including Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things have lost the shock of the new, and settled into familiar patterns. At times, programs must stop while successful.

The thing is, there are joys to be had in a limited, “one-and-done” series. Looking at 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, originally a limited series, return repeatedly with declining quality. Maybe Adolescence's creators hesitated about continuing.

The Perfect Example

I wish Yellowjackets could have been a one-and-done series, occupying our minds endlessly, mysteries intact. The best program I've seen succeeded this way. The classic teen series, the quintessential youth program, ran for just one year but achieved film-like breadth: the roles were challenging and multifaceted, the visuals were beautifully seasonal, and the conversations avoided cliched adolescent writing. The conclusion provided no neat resolution, but that is perfectly in keeping with the reality of youth queries staying forever open. After 18 great episodes (and one mediocre), I felt devastated and created my own continuation to answer some of those questions. It might only live on an old hard drive, it shows how series resonate profoundly.

The Special Relationship

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

• Priya Elan writes about the arts, music and fashion.