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It's an all-too-familiar feeling. The follow-up season of your favorite TV show has just begun streaming, and you're brimming with anticipation. The initial run ended so perfectly: narrative threads were dangled enticingly, and a main character had – cliffhanger! – been offed (or had they?). During the hiatus, you delved into fan discussions with other hardcores to decode subtle references illuminating what would happen next.

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. 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 Curse of Overextension

Wanting a series to end early is often late realization; most fans protest when their favorite shows are canned before they can get off the ground. Consider Kaos, an amusing Greek myth parody featuring Jeff Goldblum, which was binned by Netflix due to low viewing figures. But perhaps these fans will rest better with the knowledge the program avoided a disappointing second season.

Looking back at the horror-mystery show Yellowjackets, I prefer it had remained a self-contained narrative. 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. Skilled performers (with Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) portrayed the team then and now. There were multiple award nominations, and the showrunners proudly announced there would be five seasons to develop the plot thoroughly. But last week, it was announced that it would end with season four. And as a fan, I let out a sigh of relief.

Young actors prepare for Stranger Things' next chapter.

Plot twists have diluted the essence. In place of exploring post-rescue life, and their struggle with traumatic memories, the narrative expanded unnecessarily. This involved a wearying pattern of bringing in and focusing on new characters (like the underdeveloped daughter Callie) with minimal impact on the main narrative. It's aggravating, and witnessing a great series decline into annoyance is disheartening.

An Increasing Pattern

But it’s not only Yellowjackets. Shows such as Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things no longer surprise audiences, and settled into familiar patterns. At times, programs must stop while successful.

Actually, benefits come from self-contained series. Considering Sharp Objects, I May Destroy You, and Adolescence, TV creators know when to stop when the story has naturally reached an endpoint. But the game is over when shows such as Big Little Lies, first conceived as self-contained, come back for more and more with diminishing returns. Perhaps Adolescence's team reconsidered a second season.

The Supreme Instance

I desired Yellowjackets as a single-season show, occupying our minds endlessly, unresolved threads included. The best program I've seen succeeded this way. The classic teen series, the quintessential youth program, concluded after a single run but was cinematic in its scope: the roles were challenging and multifaceted, the cinematography was perfectly autumnal, and the dialogue was untethered from the normal “teen speak written by a 35-year-old” trope. The conclusion provided no neat resolution, but this reflects truth appropriately of adolescent uncertainties remaining perpetual. After 18 perfect episodes (and one dodgy one), I mourned its end and drafted follow-up stories to resolve lingering mysteries. Despite existing on obsolete equipment, but it speaks to how deeply TV shows can chime with us.

The Unique Connection

If TV creators can remember the sacrosanct relationship between viewers and shows, more programmes can bow out when the time is right.

• Priya Elan covers entertainment and style.