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Many viewers know this disappointment. Season two of your favorite TV show drops on your platform, and your mind is full of hopeful expectation. The debut season ended so perfectly: narrative threads were dangled enticingly, and a main character had – cliffhanger! – been offed (or had they?). During the hiatus, you scoured online forums with fellow enthusiasts to find some Easter egg clues illuminating what would happen next.

And then season two’s premiere is a damp squib. The writing appears robotic and uninspired. By the next installment, a beloved actor's character acts in a way that viewers recognize as jarringly uncharacteristic. By episode five, it’s clear that the showrunners have had collective amnesia regarding plot points heavily emphasized earlier. 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; most fans protest when their favorite shows are canned before they can get off the ground. Take Kaos, an amusing Greek myth parody starring Jeff Goldblum, axed by Netflix because of weak audience numbers. However, supporters might find comfort knowing the program avoided a disappointing second season.

Reflecting on 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 (with Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) portrayed the team then and now. There were multiple award nominations, and the showrunners proudly announced there would be five seasons to fully explore the narrative. Recently, news broke of a season four conclusion. This news brought me relief.

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 watching how they deal with their horrific new secrets, we were taken in directions that bloated the original premise. This involved a wearying pattern of highlighting added personalities (including the flat character 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

Yet this issue extends beyond Yellowjackets. 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.

Actually, benefits come from self-contained series. From Sharp Objects to I May Destroy You to Adolescence, producers recognize appropriate conclusion points. But the game is over when shows such as Big Little Lies, first conceived as self-contained, return repeatedly with declining quality. Hopefully, Adolescence’s producers have thought twice about that rumoured season two.

The Perfect Example

I desired Yellowjackets as a single-season show, living rent-free in our imaginations, unresolved threads included. My favorite TV show of all time has played out like that. The classic teen series, the perfect 90s teen dramedy, ran for just one year but achieved film-like breadth: its characters were difficult and contradictory, the cinematography was perfectly autumnal, and the dialogue was untethered from the normal “teen speak written by a 35-year-old” trope. The ending left questions unanswered, but that is perfectly in keeping with the reality of youth queries staying forever open. After 18 perfect episodes (and one dodgy one), I felt devastated and created my own continuation to answer some of those questions. Despite existing on obsolete equipment, but it speaks to how deeply TV shows can chime with us.

The Special Relationship

If TV creators can remember the sacrosanct relationship between viewers and shows, more series can conclude appropriately.

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