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This scenario is painfully common. The follow-up season of your top TV show has just begun streaming, and optimism runs high. The debut season ended with such precision: upcoming stories were hinted at provocatively, and a main character had – cliffhanger! – been offed (or had they?). In the months since the finale, 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. Cut to the second episode, a key performer makes a choice that you and Reddit user Fishy2345 agree is totally out of character. By episode five, it becomes obvious the creators forgot regarding plot points heavily emphasized earlier. By the lackluster conclusion, you silently wish that the show had just been cancelled.

The Curse of Overextension

Wishing for cancellation can only be retrospective; viewers usually oppose premature cancellations. Consider Kaos, an amusing Greek myth parody starring Jeff Goldblum, which Netflix dropped over poor ratings. But perhaps these fans will rest better with the knowledge the show's quality wasn't tarnished by a weak follow-up.

Reflecting on Yellowjackets, I prefer it had remained a self-contained narrative. The first season boasted an inventive concept, and its 10 episodes were note-perfect. In 1996, a plane carrying an all-girl high school football team crashes in the middle of nowhere. Skilled performers (featuring Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) played the characters across timelines. Several prize nominations followed, creators confidently planned five seasons to tell the story in necessary detail. However, a season four finale was just confirmed. And as a fan, I let out a sigh of relief.

Young actors prepare for Stranger Things' next chapter.

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. A fatiguing tendency emerged of bringing in and focusing on new characters (like the underdeveloped 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.

An Increasing Pattern

However, Yellowjackets isn't alone. Shows such as Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things lack original impact, and settled into familiar patterns. Sometimes shows need to quit when they are ahead.

Actually, benefits come from self-contained series. 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, originally a limited series, come back for more and more with diminishing returns. Perhaps Adolescence's team reconsidered a second season.

The Perfect Example

I preferred Yellowjackets as a limited run, living rent-free in our imaginations, mysteries intact. My top series ever followed this pattern. This beloved 90s drama, the quintessential youth program, lasted for only one season but was cinematic in its scope: 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. The conclusion provided no neat resolution, yet this mirrors real life accurately of adolescent uncertainties remaining perpetual. 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 demonstrates television's powerful connection.

The Sacred Bond

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

• This writer covers entertainment and style.