The audience has to know what the magic beans do (create giant beanstalks that reach up to a cloud-land where a giant lives) but it is not necessary to explain how (Shakespeare waves off Hamlet's father's ghost with: "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy").
What makes the magic beans magic beans is that the audience implicitly knows that they must accept them without question and willingly suspend their disbelief or else the rest of the story isn't going to be any fun, whether that's magic beans, light sabers, or talking animals.
It's when you add a second, unrelated or contrary type of magic bean that audiences become upset because you have effectively changed the rules of your story's universe. For me, that's adding the bizarre, religio-deterministic prophecy of "the one" to the science fiction of The Matrix. Alice in Wonderland actually does not do that, and therefore "Wonderland" a poor choice of examples of "magic bean proliferation". AiW works because it has just one central conceit (the literary term for "magic beans"): a bizarre land of Victorian pop culture characters exists that can be accessed via a rabbit hole.
A TV series is inherently different from a film, tho, because in a series, you expect the universe of the story to be expanded as it goes. Star Trek: TOS is a good example of that; crazy new shit happening all the time underscores the central conceit that we are exploring places (ludicrously far apart and populated by creatures often ridiculously similar to ourselves) where no man has gone before.
Of course, there is the danger, as seems to have happened in Lost for a lot of people (I wasn't a viewer), that you will unveil a new wrinkle in the fabric of your universe too late in the story or simply too silly and turn people off. (R2 has rockets?! Supergirl has a super-horse?!)