Netflix’s first original shows went on for a while. Early, revolutionary hits like “House of Cards” and “Orange is the New Black” endured for many seasons, thanks to the streamer giving them a chance to find an audience and develop their worlds fully. A few years in, though, Netflix became known for its willingness to give each and every show the chop. If your show is not a massive hit when it drops, it seems, they’re no longer willing to invest in your success by letting you stick around. It’s a shame, as many canceled Netflix shows might’ve become something truly great had they been given more of a shot.

But … is television only worthwhile if it goes on ad infinitum? In all this “Netflix cancels things too early” discourse, there’s a sense that television is only worth watching if it all ends — preferably many years from now — with a pitch-perfect final episode, intended by the creators since the beginning, that answers any and every question you’ve ever had while watching the show. That’s silly!

Television is about the journey, not the finale. You aren’t investing your time in hopes of some far-off payoff that will make everything worth it; you’re luxuriating in long-form storytelling. It’s about checking in with your favorite characters episode after episode and watching the way actors are able to develop characters hour by hour. The Netflix shows on this list were canceled, yes, and some even ended on cliffhangers. They’re all worth watching anyway.

The true-crime boom was in full swing by the time Netflix aired “American Vandal,” a two-season series satirizing the genre. Netflix itself had helped kick things off with “Making a Murderer,” which investigated whether a man had been framed for a murder by his local police. The kids in “American Vandal” are looking into something with far lower stakes; their docuseries is instead an investigation into a shocking graffiti incident in the faculty parking lot of their high school. That first season famously asks, “Who drew the dicks?” We won’t spoil Season 2, but you can expect to hear the word “turd” more than you have in your entire life.

Both seasons of “American Vandal” are relatively self-contained, meaning you’ll feel satisfied after binging the whole show. Sure, you’ll agree that it would’ve been nice to see Peter Maldonado (Tyler Alvarez) and Sam Ecklund (Griffin Gluck) tackle a third case, but the two seasons we did get are a whip-smart, incisive, gut-bustingly funny good time.

The smartest thing about “American Vandal” is that the show-within-a-show goes viral and gets bought by Netflix. This means the documentarians are forced to confront the fact that they are characters in their own documentary, a marker of “prestige” true crime going all the way back to Truman Capote’s “In Cold Blood.” In other words, in addition to making you laugh, watching these two doofuses interrogate their classmates while posturing for the camera will change the way you think about true crime going forward.

Rightor Doyle’s BDSM comedy “Bonding” first showed up on Netflix in 2018 as a season comprised of very short episodes. They were each between 13 and 17 minutes long, meaning the show gets in and out — no pun intended. It’s about a gay guy named Pete (the wonderfully dry Brendan Scannell) who finds himself drawn into a world of dominatrixes and dungeons by his high school bestie Tiff (Zoe Levin). She’s been working as a domme, and with Pete’s help, she can expand her burgeoning business to include customers who may want someone like him instead of someone like her. The only trouble is that Pete’s got some self-confidence issues.

It’s disappointing that Netflix cut “Bonding” off after its — longer, more assured, funnier, more emotional — second season. Still, you won’t regret spending such a short amount of time with these characters, laughing at sexual misadventures that range from foot stuff to “watersports” and beyond. There’s a genuine sweetness here too; despite the subject matter, “Bonding” is extremely non-judgmental. We all have our things, the show says, and isn’t it kind of wonderful that there are people who’ll help us explore them?

In 2019, Netflix launched a unique experiment. Its new “Criminal” franchise was localized to four countries: the United Kingdom, Germany, France, and Spain. Each series had three episodes, with each episode telling the story of one police interrogation, meaning that all told, “Criminal” promised a dozen investigations, across four countries, made by four directors. It’s exactly the kind of innovative thing the streamer should be doing more often; plus, given that most episodes take place in just a few rooms, it can’t have been that expensive to make.

It’s all solid, but “Criminal: UK” is the most reliably great of the bunch, not least because it was the only one renewed for a second go-around. The show returned with four more episodes, bringing the U.K. total to seven. While it would’ve been great to get more, that’s still a solid, self-contained binge.

One of the major appeals of the “Criminal” franchise is that it works almost like an acting exercise. Aside from recurring police officers played by Katherine Kelly and Lee Ingleby, the episodes feature revolving cast members, allowing big-name talent to drop in for just an episode. The David Tennant episode “Edgar” is particularly harrowing. Hayley Atwell is great in “Stacey,” and in the second season’s “Alex,” Kit Harington shows off a rich-kid range that pairs well with his role on “Industry.” In other words, any one episode can be watched on its own, and you’ll find you want to watch them all.

Netflix has a reputation now for not letting shows find its audience, but that wasn’t always the case. When “The Get Down” first premiered in 2015, Netflix shows had always been picked up for a second season. This series’ release strategy was different, however; Netflix dropped the first season’s first six episodes that year, and the streamer followed it up with another six a few months into 2016. Then, the series was canceled. That meant “The Get Down” was Netflix’s first-ever show not to get a second season.

That’s a shame because it’s great. That first season was helmed by Baz Luhrmann, a man known for stylish, music-heavy films like “Moulin Rouge!,” “The Great Gatsby,” and “Elvis.” This time, the Aussie director set his sights on the Bronx, telling the story of the rise of hip-hop. The series pulsates with excitement, its stellar score immersing you in a world of then-brand-new sounds, capturing what it must’ve felt like when everybody realized something special was happening there.

The series also boasts a great young cast, primarily actors of color. In addition to Shameik Moore, Herizen F. Guardiola, and Stefanée Martin, standouts included both Justice and Jaden Smith. It’s a vibrant, urgent, exciting series, well worth experiencing even though it didn’t wind up continuing. If nothing else, we owe it to this cast not to let it all be in vain.

“Girls5eva” was originally a two-season Peacock show that Netflix actually saved from cancellation, bringing it back across platforms for a third outing. The show is a sitcom from Tina Fey and Robert Carlock, the mad minds behind hits like “30 Rock” and “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt” — and still-great flops like “Great News” and “Mr. Mayor.” This one’s about a girl group that was mildly famous in the 1990s reuniting in middle age, now attempting to launch a comeback. It’s thoroughly ridiculous, supremely silly, and utterly infectious.

There used to be five girls, as the name suggests, but their reunion is sparked by one (“Emily in Paris” star Ashley Park) dying. The remaining four are played by legendary “Saturday Night Live” writer Paula Pell, “Freaks & Geeks” star Busy Philipps, original “Hamilton” cast member Renée Elise Goldsberry, and pop singer Sara Bareilles. They all have impeccable chemistry and comedic timing, making gold out of Fey’s trademark joke-a-second, reference-filled, often-surrealist dialogue.

Though you’ll absolutely get to the end of Season 3 wishing for more “Girls5eva,” it’s still a worthwhile way to spend your time. Goldsberry’s performance as Wickie Roy is guaranteed to crack you up, just as often as Bareilles’ ballads are sure to make you wistful. The pop songs are heightened satire — check out “B.P.E.,” a “W.A.P.”-style ode to … well, we’ll let you work it out for yourselves — and they’re catchy as hell. Canceled or not, these girls will be famous 5eva … “cuz 4eva’s too short.”

We’ll warn you up top: The third and final season of “GLOW” ends on a cliffhanger. Still, it’s a cliffhanger that would’ve essentially forced a soft reboot of the show, fundamentally changing the premise going forward. It would’ve been exciting television, to be sure, and we would’ve welcomed any excuse to spend more time with our favorite Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling. Nevertheless, as cliffhangers go, this one also works as an ending of its own; we’re forced to imagine what happens next, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing!

Let’s back up. “GLOW” — which is a fictionalized look at the 1980s women’s wrestling promotion of the same name — begins as a show about Ruth (Alison Brie), a struggling actor. When she auditions for “GLOW,” she finds the role she was born to play. Ruth becomes absolutely intoxicated by the high-stakes world of pro wrestling, which is populated by ladies with outsized, fabulous, weird, quirky alter-egos. There’s Sheila the She-Wolf (Gayle Rankin), fierce party-girl Melrose (Jackie Tohn), and the super-tall Brittanica (Kate Nash); Ruth herself becomes a fearsome Cold War-era Russian caricature named Zoya the Destroya.

She also develops a rivalry — in and out of the ring — with a soap star named Debbie (Betty Gilpin). Her alter-ego is Liberty Belle, an all-American counterpart to Zoya’s red menace. Gilpin and Brie are phenomenal together, two forces of nature able to find the funny even as they dive deep into their characters’ abrasive personalities. Sure, you’ll want more, but you’ll be glad you saw what you did.

“The Get Down” and “Girls5eva” aren’t Netflix’s only musical shows worth recommending. There’s also “Julie and the Phantoms,” and yes, it’s technically for kids, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing here for adults to enjoy! Anyone with an appreciation for fake pop songs from movies and television shows — those of us who spent that one summer bopping to Ashley O.’s infectious song from “Black Mirror,” for example — will find much to love about “Julie and the Phantoms.”

As you might guess, the show’s about a girl named Julie (a phenomenally spunky Madison Reyes). It’s also about a boy band called Sunset Curve (Charlie Gillespie, Jeremy Shada, and Owen Patrick Joyner) who died back in the 1990s, only to pop back up as ghosts when their music is played once more. Julie can see them, and as she helps the ghosts adjust to modern life — or, afterlife, as it were — the whole group realizes they have some insane musical chemistry. Soon, Julie and the Phantoms are rocking out, writing the kind of painfully catchy music many real-life pop stars could only dream of releasing. 

Did we mention that the show was helmed by “High School Musical” director Kenny Ortega? Naturally, it’s full of as many colorful, energetically-choreographed musical sequences as you could want, from the joyful whole-school-dancing-in-the-halls number “I Got The Music” to Cheyenne Jackson’s showstopping “The Other Side of Hollywood.” Eat your heart out, “High School Musical: The Musical: The Series” — these ghost-boyfriends win.

There’s no one quite like Maria Bamford. The eccentric comedian has made a name for herself thanks to her bizarrely specific worldview, using her squeaky voice and love of surrealism to weave wacky tales of mishaps and maladies. She brought that utterly unique sensibility to “Lady Dynamite,” a Netflix sitcom like little else. The closest comparison might be that Bamford’s show has a touch of Tina Fey’s absurdist sensibility, but it’s like a Tina Fey sitcom within a Tina Fey sitcom and several more levels beyond that. It’s humor about humor about humor, twisted up in on itself like a funhouse-mirror version of reality, and it’s irresistible.

Within the show, Bamford plays a version of herself. “Lady Dynamite” is supposedly semi-autobiographical, detailing her exploits in the entertainment industry as she tries to get people to take her seriously as a comedic voice. It’s about her romantic life too, diving into her partnership with a lovable oaf named Scott (Ólafur Darri Ólafsson).

As she bumbles through life, Bamford encounters a ton of other famous faces; the series is packed full of guest stars that range from Ana Gasteyer and Patton Oswalt to Weird Al Yankovic, Wendie Malick, and Mira Sorvino. One gets the sense that all these people were happy to show up for their oddball buddy Bamford, lending their names to her show so that people would be willing to give her a chance. If you haven’t seen “Lady Dynamite,” you too should give her a chance.

David Fincher’s two-season Netflix series “Mindhunter” is about the development of the Serial Crime Unit of the FBI. “Serial killers” have always been around, but as a term in criminology — and as a concept in pop culture — someone needed to put a name to them. That someone is here named Holden Ford (Jonathan Groff), and alongside Bill Tench (Holt McCallany) and Dr. Wendy Carr (Anna Torv), Holden endeavors to understand some of the most depraved minds in American history.

“Mindhunter” feels like a continuation of the work Fincher did in “Zodiac.” Like that film, this show is a procedural concerned with the process; it’s a methodical thriller that’s as much about the development of a method as it is about the thrills. It’s a series about whether science can ever truly comprehend what makes someone commit vicious crimes, about whether the justice system can ever really grapple with the evil that exists in the world.

Lest that sound too dark and dismal, we should make it clear that “Mindhunter” is also just flat-out entertaining. Groff, McCallany, and Torv develop incredible chemistry, and Fincher’s trademark eye for tension leads to some utterly riveting interrogation sequences. Many of the best scenes on “Mindhunter” are just people sitting around a table talking to one another, but they’re as compelling as television gets. As with every show on this list, it would’ve been nice to get more “Mindhunter,” but its two seasons are maybe even more haunting because they’re open-ended. Evil, after all, endures.

We can’t talk about canceled Netflix shows without bringing up “The OA.” While Brit Marling and Zal Batmanglij’s sci-fi stunner wasn’t particularly popular as it aired, the series developed a fanbase so passionate that news of its cancellation sparked a hunger strike outside the Netflix offices in Hollywood. What kind of series could possibly lead to such a desperate response from fans?

“The OA” is a series that wants you to trust it. It’s a show about suspending your disbelief, about allowing yourself to be moved by the power of storytelling. Marling plays a woman named Prairie who was abducted years ago; as the show opens, she’s found wandering on a bridge. Prairie — who’s begun calling herself “The OA” — tells her story to a group of local teenagers, spinning a tale of love, loss, and a strange series of “movements” that might have an extraordinary effect on reality itself. Prairie reveals that she was kidnapped by a man who goes by Hap (Jason Isaacs), a mad scientist of sorts conducting research about near-death experiences, and to say much more would be to spoil the show’s wonders.

When “The OA” returned for its second season, its scope expanded. Zendaya joined the cast, as did Kingsley Ben-Adir in one of his best roles. “The OA” was unfortunately canceled after ending on an earth-shattering cliffhanger, but trust us: you’ll feel forever changed for having experienced OA’s story. And, who knows; maybe she’s still out there somewhere.

“Sense8” introduces us to eight people from around the world who are connected by a psychic link. They were all born at precisely the same moment, and after the cluster is activated, this connection allows them to telepathically communicate with one another across space. They can even inhabit each other’s bodies in times of heightened emotion, sharing their skills to get each other out of jams. There’s Sun (Bae Doona), a Korean businesswoman who knows martial arts; Lito (Miguel Angel Silvestre), a gay Mexican actor; Nomi (Jamie Clayton), a trans hacker; Riley (Tuppence Middleton), a British DJ; Kala (Tina Desai), an Indian pharmacist; Capheus (Aml Ameen and Toby Onwumere), a Kenyan van driver; Will (Brian J. Smith), a Chicago cop; and Wolfgang (Max Riemelt), a German thief. You’ll love them all.

“Sense8” was cut short before it could explore every nook and cranny of its world. Its cancellation sparked enough of an outcry that Netflix agreed to give the series a wrap-up movie, which thankfully solves some of its conspiracy elements. More importantly, it gives us more time with these characters, and one last chance to see the love and empathy that radiates from these actors.

In addition to J. Michael Straczynski, “Sense8” is from the Wachowski Sisters — perhaps our most humanist filmmakers. In addition to innovative action sequences, the Wachowskis can also be counted on to desperately believe in the power of human connection to overcome the worst obstacles. We could all use that belief in our lives.