🔗 Share this article

This scenario is painfully common. The second series of your top TV show premieres online, and your mind is full of hopeful expectation. The debut season ended with such precision: upcoming stories were hinted at provocatively, and a main character had – cliffhanger! – been offed (or had they?). After the season wrapped, you delved into fan discussions with dedicated fans to decode subtle references shedding light on future developments.

And then season two’s premiere is a damp squib. The writing appears robotic and uninspired. Cut to the second episode, a key performer makes a choice that you and Reddit user Fishy2345 agree is totally out of character. Halfway through the season, it’s clear that the showrunners have had collective amnesia around the storylines aggressively signposted in season one. And by the disappointing finale, you privately hope it had ended sooner.

The Pitfall of Overextension

Regretting a show's continuation is hindsight; most fans protest when their favorite shows are canned before they can get off the ground. Look at Kaos, a delightfully satirical take on Greek mythology featuring Jeff Goldblum, axed by Netflix because of weak audience numbers. However, supporters might find comfort knowing their enjoyment of the series won’t have been muddied by a sophomore slump.

Looking back at the horror-mystery show Yellowjackets, I currently desire it was a one-season story. 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. Excellent actors (with Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) depicted the survivors in dual eras. Several prize nominations followed, and the showrunners proudly announced there would be five seasons to tell the story in necessary detail. Recently, news broke of a season four conclusion. And as a fan, I let out a sigh of relief.

The Stranger Things cast returns for season five.

Plot twists have diluted the essence. Rather than leading with the girls’ return home, and watching how they deal with their horrific new secrets, the story grew padded and excessive. This involved a wearying pattern of bringing in and focusing on new characters (such as Shauna’s two-dimensional daughter Callie) with minimal impact on the main narrative. It’s frustrating, and watching a beloved program become tedious is sad.

An Increasing Pattern

But it’s not only Yellowjackets. Series like 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.

Actually, benefits come from self-contained series. Looking at Sharp Objects, I May Destroy You, and Adolescence, writers understand when narratives find completion. However, the magic fades with series like Big Little Lies, first conceived as self-contained, return repeatedly with declining quality. Maybe Adolescence's creators hesitated about continuing.

The Supreme Instance

I preferred Yellowjackets as a limited run, living rent-free in our imaginations, cliffhangers and all. My favorite TV show of all time has played out like that. The classic teen series, the ideal adolescent show, ran for just one year but achieved film-like breadth: the roles were challenging and multifaceted, the filming captured a fall aesthetic, and the scripts transcended typical youth dialogue. 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 was heartbroken and took to writing season two fan fiction myself to resolve lingering mysteries. It might only live on an old hard drive, it shows how series resonate profoundly.

The Unique Connection

If TV creators can remember the sacrosanct relationship between viewers and shows, more shows can end gracefully.

• The author writes about the arts, music and fashion.