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Many viewers know this disappointment. The follow-up season of your favorite TV show premieres online, and optimism runs high. Season one ended so perfectly: upcoming stories were hinted at provocatively, and a main character had – cliffhanger! – been offed (or had they?). After the season wrapped, you were perusing Reddit threads with other hardcores to find some Easter egg clues 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. 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 concerning narrative arcs clearly established previously. And by the disappointing finale, you privately hope it had ended sooner.

The Pitfall of Overextension

Wanting a series to end early is often late realization; viewers usually oppose premature cancellations. Look at Kaos, a delightfully satirical take on Greek mythology with Jeff Goldblum, which was binned by Netflix due to low viewing figures. Yet audiences can console themselves that the program avoided a disappointing second season.

Considering the thriller Yellowjackets, I currently desire it was a one-season story. The debut offered a richly imaginative setup, with ten flawless installments. 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. 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. Instead of focusing on the survivors' reintegration, and their coping with awful experiences, the narrative expanded unnecessarily. This involved a wearying pattern of introducing peripheral figures (including the flat character Callie) who did nothing for the broader story. It's disappointing, and as a viewer, it is depressing to see your favorite show morph slowly into a hate-watch.

A Common Phenomenon

Yet this issue extends beyond Yellowjackets. Series like Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things no longer surprise audiences, and embraced predictable tropes. Occasionally, series should end on a high note.

The thing is, there are joys to be had in a limited, “one-and-done” series. From Sharp Objects to I May Destroy You to Adolescence, writers understand when narratives find completion. Yet the spell breaks for programs including Big Little Lies, first conceived as self-contained, return repeatedly with declining quality. Maybe Adolescence's creators hesitated about continuing.

The Ideal Model

I preferred Yellowjackets as a limited run, living rent-free in our imaginations, cliffhangers and all. My top series ever followed this pattern. My So-Called Life, the ideal adolescent show, concluded after a single run 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, 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 address unfinished business. Despite existing on obsolete equipment, it demonstrates television's powerful connection.

The Sacred Bond

When producers honor the special viewer-program bond, more shows can end gracefully.

• The author covers entertainment and style.