It's an all-too-familiar feeling. The second series of your favorite TV show drops on your platform, and you're brimming with anticipation. Season one ended so perfectly: narrative threads were dangled enticingly, and a key figure faced a shocking fate – or did they?. In the months since the finale, you scoured online forums with fellow enthusiasts to uncover hidden hints pointing toward upcoming twists.
And then season two’s premiere is a damp squib. The writing appears robotic and uninspired. By the next installment, your favorite cast member has done something that viewers recognize as jarringly uncharacteristic. Halfway through the season, it becomes obvious the creators forgot around the storylines aggressively signposted in season one. By the lackluster conclusion, you privately hope it had ended sooner.
Wishing for cancellation can only be retrospective; audiences frequently rally against early axings. Take Kaos, a delightfully satirical take on Greek mythology with Jeff Goldblum, which Netflix dropped over poor ratings. Yet audiences can console themselves that the program avoided a disappointing second season.
Considering the thriller Yellowjackets, I prefer it had remained a self-contained narrative. Season one had a creatively abundant premise, and its 10 episodes were note-perfect. Aircraft disaster leaves a teen girls' team isolated in 1996. Skilled performers (with Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) played the characters across timelines. Several prize nominations followed, producers originally mapped out a five-season arc to tell the story in necessary detail. But last week, it was announced that it would end with season four. 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. In place of exploring post-rescue life, and watching how they deal with their horrific new secrets, the narrative expanded unnecessarily. That included the show’s tiring habit of introducing peripheral figures (including the flat character Callie) who did nothing for the broader story. It’s frustrating, and witnessing a great series decline into annoyance is disheartening.
Yet this issue extends beyond Yellowjackets. Series like Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things have lost the shock of the new, and settled into familiar patterns. Occasionally, series should end on a high note.
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, TV creators know when to stop when the story has naturally reached an endpoint. Yet the spell breaks for programs including Big Little Lies, first conceived as self-contained, extend endlessly with reduced impact. Hopefully, Adolescence’s producers have thought twice about that rumoured season two.
I desired Yellowjackets as a single-season show, occupying our minds endlessly, cliffhangers and all. The best program I've seen succeeded this way. The classic teen series, the ideal adolescent show, lasted for only one season yet felt epic in scale: the roles were challenging and multifaceted, the cinematography was perfectly autumnal, and the scripts transcended typical youth dialogue. The ending left questions unanswered, but that is perfectly in keeping with the reality of never having real, definitive answers to the open-ended questions from your teenage years. Following 18 excellent installments (plus one weak 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.
If TV creators can remember the sacrosanct relationship between viewers and shows, more programmes can bow out when the time is right.