🔗 Share this article

This scenario is painfully common. Season two of your beloved TV show premieres online, and your mind is full of hopeful expectation. The debut season ended flawlessly: upcoming stories were hinted at provocatively, and a main character had – cliffhanger! – been offed (or had they?). During the hiatus, you scoured online forums with other hardcores to find some Easter egg clues 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, your favorite cast member has done something that viewers recognize as jarringly uncharacteristic. As the story progresses, the writers appear to have memory loss regarding plot points heavily emphasized earlier. As the underwhelming ending arrives, you long for an earlier termination.

The Downside 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. Consider Kaos, an amusing Greek myth parody starring Jeff Goldblum, which was binned by Netflix due to low viewing figures. However, supporters might find comfort knowing the program avoided a disappointing second season.

Reflecting on Yellowjackets, I prefer it had remained a self-contained narrative. Season one had a creatively abundant premise, and its 10 episodes were note-perfect. In 1996, a plane carrying an all-girl high school football team crashes in the middle of nowhere. Top-notch cast members (featuring Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) depicted the survivors in dual eras. Numerous awards recognition occurred, producers originally mapped out a five-season arc to develop the plot thoroughly. Recently, news broke of a season four conclusion. I felt grateful as a viewer.

Young actors prepare for Stranger Things' next chapter.

Plot twists have diluted the essence. In place of exploring post-rescue life, and their coping with awful experiences, the narrative expanded unnecessarily. This involved a wearying pattern of bringing in and focusing on new characters (like the underdeveloped daughter Callie) who added little to the overarching plot. It's aggravating, and watching a beloved program become tedious is sad.

An Increasing Pattern

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. Sometimes shows need to quit when they are ahead.

The thing is, there are joys to be had in a limited, “one-and-done” 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. Hopefully, Adolescence’s producers have thought twice about that rumoured season two.

The Ideal Model

I wish Yellowjackets could have been a one-and-done series, residing permanently in our thoughts, mysteries intact. 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 yet felt epic in scale: the roles were challenging and multifaceted, the filming captured a fall aesthetic, 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 Unique Connection

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

• The author focuses on cultural topics.