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This scenario is painfully common. The second series of your beloved TV show has just begun streaming, and your mind is full of hopeful expectation. The debut season 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 dedicated fans to uncover hidden hints illuminating what would happen next.

But the new season opener falls flat. The writing appears robotic and uninspired. In episode two, a beloved actor's character acts in a way that fans unanimously declare inconsistent. Halfway through the season, the writers appear to have memory loss regarding plot points heavily emphasized earlier. And by the disappointing finale, you silently wish that the show had just been cancelled.

The Curse of Too Many Seasons

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, which was binned by Netflix due to low viewing figures. 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. Season one had a creatively abundant premise, with ten flawless installments. In 1996, a plane carrying an all-girl high school football team crashes in the middle of nowhere. Skilled performers (with Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) portrayed the team then and now. Several prize nominations followed, producers originally mapped out a five-season arc to develop the plot thoroughly. But last week, it was announced that it would end with season four. I felt grateful as a viewer.

Gaten Matarazzo, Finn Wolfhard, Caleb McLaughlin and Noah Schnapp in the forthcoming fifth season of Stranger Things.

Plot twists have diluted the essence. Rather than leading with the girls’ return home, and their struggle with traumatic memories, the story grew padded and excessive. This involved a wearying pattern of introducing peripheral figures (including the flat character Callie) with minimal impact on the main narrative. It's disappointing, and as a viewer, it is depressing to see your favorite show morph slowly into a hate-watch.

A Growing Trend

However, Yellowjackets isn't alone. 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. Occasionally, series should end on a high note.

Actually, benefits come from self-contained series. From Sharp Objects to I May Destroy You to 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. Maybe Adolescence's creators hesitated about continuing.

The Supreme Instance

I desired Yellowjackets as a single-season show, living rent-free in our imaginations, unresolved threads included. The best program I've seen succeeded this way. This beloved 90s drama, the perfect 90s teen dramedy, lasted for only one season 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 this reflects truth appropriately of adolescent uncertainties remaining perpetual. After 18 perfect episodes (and one dodgy one), I was heartbroken and took to writing season two fan fiction myself to answer some of those questions. Though stored on outdated technology, it shows how series resonate profoundly.

The Sacred Bond

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

• This writer covers entertainment and style.