HUMANITARIAN AWARDS: At one point Sheeran plays a song when a mate of his proposes marriage to his girlfriend, then he stages an impromptu gig on a tourist bus, then performs at a rooftop birthday party (there is a hilariously uncomfortable scene riding up in the lift in silence with a baffled non-fan businessman) and at

Ed Sheeran floats through New York on a cloud of his own sunny high spirits in this hour-long Netflix special. He is the Candide of the music business, smiling benignly, strumming and singing, seamlessly pausing for selfies and fist-bumps and high-fives; he almost 

 

Ed Sheeran floats through New York on a cloud of his own sunny high spirits in this hour-long Netflix special. He is the Candide of the music business, smiling benignly, strumming and singing, seamlessly pausing for selfies and fist-bumps and high-f

 

Ed Sheeran floats through New York on a cloud of his own sunny high spirits in this hour-long Netflix special. He is the Candide of the music business, smiling benignly, strumming and singing, seamlessly pausing for selfies and fist-bumps and high-fives; he almost dissolves into pure goodwill, a sort of ginger-haired aura given human form. There is an ease to his presence that borders on mythical: the troubadour who cannot walk a block without breaking into song, the celebrity who seems shockingly unruffled by the machinery whirring around him. If the city wears its noise and impatience like armor, Sheeran penetrates it simply by being unflappably cheerful.

 

The special leans into this persona with deliberate gentleness. There are no dramatic revelations, no gritty behind-the-scenes breakdowns. Instead, we follow Sheeran drifting from subway platform to rooftop to late-night diner, each location serving as both backdrop and stage. The camera lingers, not to scrutinize but to bask. If there’s a thesis here, it’s that joy itself can be a form of spectacle. Sheeran’s gift, the special suggests, is not only musical but emotional: he creates little pockets of warmth in the city’s relentless churn.

 

Yet this unwavering sunniness is double-edged. Viewers looking for tension may find the tone almost too frictionless. Sheeran remains resolutely opaque, charming without ever becoming truly vulnerable. His smiles are genuine, his interactions sincere, but the documentary never quite pierces the surface of the persona. It’s not that he is hiding something; rather, he seems determined not to complicate the world with shadows he prefers not to dwell on. That artistic optimism—endearing to some, simplistic to others—defines the narrative’s boundaries.

 

Still, the music itself remains the anchor. When he performs stripped-down acoustic versions of familiar hits, the special gains momentum. His voice, rich and weathered in a way his demeanor isn’t, hints at deeper emotional reservoirs. In these moments, the cloud beneath him feels less like a quirky metaphor and more like a cushion built from years of relentless touring, quiet discipline, and earned confidence.

 

By the time the credits roll, the viewer may not know Sheeran any better, but they will have spent an hour in a world where kindness is a default and melody is a kind of streetlight. It’s a soft place to land—perhaps softer than reality—but undeniably pleasant to drift through.