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This scenario is painfully common. Season two of your favorite TV show drops on your platform, and optimism runs high. The initial run ended with such precision: future plotlines were teased tantalisingly, and a main character had – cliffhanger! – been offed (or had they?). After the season wrapped, you scoured online forums with dedicated fans to uncover hidden hints pointing toward upcoming twists.

Unfortunately, the return episode disappoints. It seems as if the creative team was swapped for algorithms. In episode two, a beloved actor's character acts in a way that viewers recognize as jarringly uncharacteristic. Halfway through the season, the writers appear to have memory loss around the storylines aggressively signposted in season one. By the lackluster conclusion, you privately hope it had ended sooner.

The Downside 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. Consider Kaos, an amusing Greek myth parody featuring Jeff Goldblum, axed by Netflix because of weak audience numbers. Yet audiences can console themselves that their enjoyment of the series won’t have been muddied by a sophomore slump.

Considering the thriller Yellowjackets, I now wish it had been a limited series. The debut offered a richly imaginative setup, and its 10 episodes were note-perfect. A 1996 plane crash strands a female soccer team in wilderness. Top-notch cast members (including Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) depicted the survivors in dual eras. Numerous awards recognition occurred, creators confidently planned five seasons to tell the story in necessary detail. However, a season four finale was just confirmed. I felt grateful as a viewer.

The Stranger Things cast returns for season five.

Story decisions have weakened the core. In place of exploring post-rescue life, and watching how they deal with their horrific new secrets, the narrative expanded unnecessarily. This involved a wearying pattern of highlighting added personalities (including the flat character Callie) who did nothing for the broader story. It's disappointing, and witnessing a great series decline into annoyance is disheartening.

A Common Phenomenon

However, Yellowjackets isn't alone. Programs including Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things lack original impact, and fallen headfirst into expected or comfortable cliches. At times, programs must stop while successful.

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. But the game is over when shows such as Big Little Lies, originally a limited series, extend endlessly with reduced impact. Perhaps Adolescence's team reconsidered a second season.

The Ideal Model

I wish Yellowjackets could have been a one-and-done series, occupying our minds endlessly, mysteries intact. My top series ever followed this pattern. This beloved 90s drama, the ideal adolescent show, lasted for only one season yet felt epic in scale: its characters were difficult and contradictory, the filming captured a fall aesthetic, and the conversations avoided cliched adolescent writing. The conclusion provided no neat resolution, but that is perfectly in keeping with the reality of never having real, definitive answers to the open-ended questions from your teenage years. After 18 great episodes (and one mediocre), I was heartbroken and took to writing season two fan fiction myself to resolve lingering mysteries. Despite existing on obsolete equipment, it demonstrates television's powerful connection.

The Special Relationship

If TV creators can remember the sacrosanct relationship between viewers and shows, more programmes can bow out when the time is right.

• The author focuses on cultural topics.