This scenario is painfully common. Season two of your top TV show premieres online, and you're brimming with anticipation. Season one ended flawlessly: narrative threads were dangled enticingly, and a key figure faced a shocking fate ā or did they?. During the hiatus, you were perusing Reddit threads with fellow enthusiasts to decode subtle references shedding light on future developments.
Unfortunately, the return episode disappoints. It feels like the entire writersā room has been fired and replaced by artificial intelligence. In episode two, a beloved actor's character acts in a way that viewers recognize as jarringly uncharacteristic. As the story progresses, itās clear that the showrunners have had collective amnesia concerning narrative arcs clearly established previously. By the lackluster conclusion, you silently wish that the show had just been cancelled.
Wishing for cancellation can only be retrospective; audiences frequently rally against early axings. Look at Kaos, a delightfully satirical take on Greek mythology starring Jeff Goldblum, which was binned by Netflix due to low viewing figures. But perhaps these fans will rest better with the knowledge the show's quality wasn't tarnished by a weak follow-up.
Considering the thriller Yellowjackets, I prefer it had remained a self-contained narrative. The first season boasted an inventive concept, with ten flawless installments. Aircraft disaster leaves a teen girls' team isolated in 1996. Top-notch cast members (including Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) depicted the survivors in dual eras. There were multiple award nominations, producers originally mapped out a five-season arc to fully explore the narrative. 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.
Story decisions have weakened the core. Rather than leading with the girlsā return home, and their coping with awful experiences, we were taken in directions that bloated the original premise. A fatiguing tendency emerged of introducing peripheral figures (like the underdeveloped daughter Callie) with minimal impact on the main narrative. Itās frustrating, and watching a beloved program become tedious is sad.
Yet this issue extends beyond Yellowjackets. Series like Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things no longer surprise audiences, 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, āone-and-doneā series. Considering Sharp Objects, I May Destroy You, and Adolescence, producers recognize appropriate conclusion points. However, the magic fades with series like Big Little Lies, initially a one-season story, extend endlessly with reduced impact. Hopefully, Adolescenceās producers have thought twice about that rumoured season two.
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. This beloved 90s drama, the ideal adolescent show, lasted for only one season yet felt epic in scale: its characters were difficult and contradictory, the visuals were beautifully seasonal, and the dialogue was untethered from the normal āteen speak written by a 35-year-oldā trope. The ending left questions unanswered, yet this mirrors real life accurately of adolescent uncertainties remaining perpetual. After 18 perfect episodes (and one dodgy one), I mourned its end and drafted follow-up stories to address unfinished business. 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 series can conclude appropriately.
A London-based journalist with a passion for uncovering cultural trends and lifestyle stories across the UK.