TV Shows Are Getting Bloated: Why "One-and-Done" Series Are a Brighter Idea
The latest season of your favorite show has just dropped, but instead of excitement and hope, you're met with disappointment and frustration. The second series feels like a rehashing of the same old storylines, with the writers' room seemingly firing on all cylinders - but in the wrong direction.
Season two's premiere is a damp squib, feeling like the entire show has lost its way. Your favorite cast members do things that are out of character, and by episode five, it's clear that the showrunners have collectively amnesia around the storylines that were so expertly set up in season one. The show's protagonist has been killed off, only to be brought back to life a few episodes later - a move that feels like a cynical attempt to milk more drama from the narrative.
The same feeling of frustration and disappointment is echoed by fans of shows like Stranger Things and Yellowjackets. These popular series have become bloated, with too much repetition and not enough surprises. The horror-mystery aspect of Yellowjackets, in particular, has lost its edge, with new characters being introduced that serve no purpose other than to pad out the episode count.
The problem is that shows like Big Little Lies and Emily in Paris are getting away with it - they're becoming bloated themselves, but still managing to garner critical acclaim. It's time for TV creators to remember that some shows just don't need a second season (or even more). A "one-and-done" approach can be beneficial, allowing the show to live on in your imagination and leaving you wanting more.
Take My So-Called Life as an example. This 90s teen dramedy was perfect in its one-season run - its characters were complex and multifaceted, the cinematography was stunning, and the dialogue was authentic. Its final episode was heart-wrenching, but also strangely cathartic. And that's exactly what makes a limited series so special - it knows when to stop, leaving viewers with just enough to keep them hooked.
If TV creators can learn from shows like My So-Called Life and Adolescence, they might just remember the magic of a well-crafted narrative. By knowing when to quit, they can leave their audience wanting more - but not at the expense of quality. As Priya Elan so eloquently puts it, "sometimes shows need to quit when they're ahead."
The latest season of your favorite show has just dropped, but instead of excitement and hope, you're met with disappointment and frustration. The second series feels like a rehashing of the same old storylines, with the writers' room seemingly firing on all cylinders - but in the wrong direction.
Season two's premiere is a damp squib, feeling like the entire show has lost its way. Your favorite cast members do things that are out of character, and by episode five, it's clear that the showrunners have collectively amnesia around the storylines that were so expertly set up in season one. The show's protagonist has been killed off, only to be brought back to life a few episodes later - a move that feels like a cynical attempt to milk more drama from the narrative.
The same feeling of frustration and disappointment is echoed by fans of shows like Stranger Things and Yellowjackets. These popular series have become bloated, with too much repetition and not enough surprises. The horror-mystery aspect of Yellowjackets, in particular, has lost its edge, with new characters being introduced that serve no purpose other than to pad out the episode count.
The problem is that shows like Big Little Lies and Emily in Paris are getting away with it - they're becoming bloated themselves, but still managing to garner critical acclaim. It's time for TV creators to remember that some shows just don't need a second season (or even more). A "one-and-done" approach can be beneficial, allowing the show to live on in your imagination and leaving you wanting more.
Take My So-Called Life as an example. This 90s teen dramedy was perfect in its one-season run - its characters were complex and multifaceted, the cinematography was stunning, and the dialogue was authentic. Its final episode was heart-wrenching, but also strangely cathartic. And that's exactly what makes a limited series so special - it knows when to stop, leaving viewers with just enough to keep them hooked.
If TV creators can learn from shows like My So-Called Life and Adolescence, they might just remember the magic of a well-crafted narrative. By knowing when to quit, they can leave their audience wanting more - but not at the expense of quality. As Priya Elan so eloquently puts it, "sometimes shows need to quit when they're ahead."