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It's an all-too-familiar feeling. The follow-up season of your top TV show premieres online, and you're brimming with anticipation. The debut season ended flawlessly: future plotlines were teased tantalisingly, and a main character had – cliffhanger! – been offed (or had they?). In the months since the finale, you scoured online forums with fellow enthusiasts to uncover hidden hints shedding light on future developments.

And then season two’s premiere is a damp squib. It feels like the entire writers’ room has been fired and replaced by artificial intelligence. In episode two, a beloved actor's character acts in a way that fans unanimously declare inconsistent. As the story progresses, the writers appear to have memory loss around the storylines aggressively signposted in season one. And by the disappointing finale, you silently wish that the show had just been cancelled.

The Pitfall of Prolonged Runs

Wanting a series to end early is often late realization; viewers usually oppose premature cancellations. Consider Kaos, a clever mythological satire starring Jeff Goldblum, which was binned by Netflix due to low viewing figures. However, supporters might find comfort knowing their enjoyment of the series won’t have been muddied by a sophomore slump.

Reflecting on 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. Top-notch cast members (with Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) played the characters across timelines. 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.

The show has made narrative choices that have undermined its heart. Rather than leading with the girls’ return home, and their coping with awful experiences, the narrative expanded unnecessarily. This involved a wearying pattern of bringing in and focusing on new characters (including the flat character Callie) who did nothing for the broader story. It's aggravating, and witnessing a great series decline into annoyance is disheartening.

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 embraced predictable tropes. At times, programs must stop while successful.

Indeed, pleasures exist in single-season stories. Looking at Sharp Objects, I May Destroy You, and Adolescence, writers understand when narratives find completion. 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 Supreme Instance

I preferred Yellowjackets as a limited run, occupying our minds endlessly, cliffhangers and all. My top series ever followed this pattern. My So-Called Life, the ideal adolescent show, lasted for only one season but was cinematic in its scope: its characters were difficult and contradictory, the visuals were beautifully seasonal, 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 adolescent uncertainties remaining perpetual. After 18 great episodes (and one mediocre), I mourned its end and drafted follow-up stories to address unfinished business. It might only live on an old hard drive, but it speaks to how deeply TV shows can chime with us.

The Special Relationship

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

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