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Many viewers know this disappointment. The follow-up season of your favorite TV show drops on your platform, and your mind is full of hopeful expectation. The debut season ended flawlessly: upcoming stories were hinted at provocatively, and a protagonist met a mysterious end – or so it seemed. After the season wrapped, you delved into fan discussions with other hardcores to decode subtle references illuminating what would happen next.

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. Cut to the second episode, 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 regarding plot points heavily emphasized earlier. By the lackluster conclusion, 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. Take 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 the show's quality wasn't tarnished by a weak follow-up.

Reflecting on Yellowjackets, I now wish it had been a limited series. The debut offered a richly imaginative setup, and every episode hit the right marks. In 1996, a plane carrying an all-girl high school football team crashes in the middle of nowhere. Excellent actors (with Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) portrayed the team then and now. There were multiple award nominations, creators confidently planned five seasons to develop the plot thoroughly. 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. Rather than leading with the girls’ return home, and watching how they deal with their horrific new secrets, we were taken in directions that bloated the original premise. That included the show’s tiring habit of bringing in and focusing on new characters (including the flat character Callie) with minimal impact on the main narrative. It's aggravating, 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. Series like Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things no longer surprise audiences, and embraced predictable tropes. At times, programs must stop while successful.

Actually, benefits come from self-contained series. From Sharp Objects to I May Destroy You to Adolescence, writers understand when narratives find completion. However, the magic fades with series like Big Little Lies, initially a one-season story, come back for more and more with diminishing returns. Maybe Adolescence's creators hesitated about continuing.

The Supreme Instance

I wish Yellowjackets could have been a one-and-done series, living rent-free in our imaginations, cliffhangers and all. My favorite TV show of all time has played out like that. My So-Called Life, the ideal adolescent show, lasted for only one season but achieved film-like breadth: its characters were difficult and contradictory, the cinematography was perfectly autumnal, and the conversations avoided cliched adolescent writing. The ending left questions unanswered, yet this mirrors real life accurately of youth queries staying forever open. Following 18 excellent installments (plus one weak one), I felt devastated and created my own continuation to address unfinished business. Despite existing on obsolete equipment, it shows how series resonate profoundly.

The Special Relationship

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

• This writer writes about the arts, music and fashion.