This scenario is painfully common. The second series of your top TV show has just begun streaming, and optimism runs high. The initial run ended flawlessly: upcoming stories were hinted at provocatively, and a main character had – cliffhanger! – been offed (or had they?). During the hiatus, you delved into fan discussions with fellow enthusiasts 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. Cut to the second episode, a beloved actor's character acts in a way that you and Reddit user Fishy2345 agree is totally out of character. As the story progresses, it becomes obvious the creators forgot around the storylines aggressively signposted in season one. And by the disappointing finale, you privately hope it had ended sooner.
Regretting a show's continuation is hindsight; audiences frequently rally against early axings. Take Kaos, a clever mythological satire featuring Jeff Goldblum, axed by Netflix because of weak audience numbers. However, supporters might find comfort knowing the program avoided a disappointing second season.
Considering the thriller Yellowjackets, I currently desire it was a one-season story. The debut offered a richly imaginative setup, and every episode hit the right marks. A 1996 plane crash strands a female soccer team in wilderness. Top-notch cast members (with Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) depicted the survivors in dual eras. Several prize nominations followed, producers originally mapped out a five-season arc 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.
Gaten Matarazzo, Finn Wolfhard, Caleb McLaughlin and Noah Schnapp in the forthcoming fifth season of Stranger Things.
The show has made narrative choices that have undermined its heart. Rather than leading with the girls’ return home, and their struggle with traumatic memories, the story grew padded and excessive. That included the show’s tiring habit of bringing in and focusing on new characters (like the underdeveloped daughter Callie) who did nothing for the broader story. It's disappointing, and as a viewer, it is depressing to see your favorite show morph slowly into a hate-watch.
But it’s not only Yellowjackets. Shows such as Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things lack original impact, and embraced predictable tropes. Occasionally, series should end on a high note.
Indeed, pleasures exist in single-season stories. Considering Sharp Objects, I May Destroy You, and Adolescence, producers recognize appropriate conclusion points. Yet the spell breaks for programs including Big Little Lies, initially a one-season story, return repeatedly with declining quality. Hopefully, Adolescence’s producers have thought twice about that rumoured season two.
I desired Yellowjackets as a single-season show, 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, ran for just one year but was cinematic in its scope: its characters were difficult and contradictory, the visuals were beautifully seasonal, and the scripts transcended typical youth dialogue. The conclusion provided no neat resolution, but this reflects truth appropriately of youth queries staying forever open. 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. It might only live on an old hard drive, it shows how series resonate profoundly.
If TV creators can remember the sacrosanct relationship between viewers and shows, more shows can end gracefully.
A tech enthusiast and writer passionate about AI, cybersecurity, and digital transformation, sharing insights from years of industry experience.