Television that makes you cry is something Jason Katims (“Friday Night Lights,” “Parenthood”) is well known for, and his latest on Apple TV+, “Dear Edward,” is no exception to this rule. Even if high school football is outside your interests or a tragedy on the scale of the plane crash only exists in your nightmares, Katims will zero in on the universal (and even mundane) aspects to a significant teary-eyed effect. 
“Dear Edward” is far from the only recent series to use a plane crash as a springboard, but unlike “Yellowjackets” (and even “Lost”), it steers clear of anything supernatural or unexplained. The premise is simple: 12-year-old Edward (Colin O’Brien) is the only survivor of a commercial plane crash that killed his immediate family. Now, he must grapple with enormous grief, guilt, and unwanted fame from being hailed “Miracle Boy.” Edward’s name is in the title, but he is far from the only story being told. Katims adapted the series from Ann Napolitano’s 2020 best-selling novel of the same name, which explores the lives of those impacted by this aviation disaster. It is through the overlapping reactions to this experience that the series soars.
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Grief therapy paid for by the Trinity Airline provides a hub for loved ones who want to connect with others personally impacted by this devastating event. Group meetings are a narrative format that doubles as an exposition dump that could be clunky in the wrong hands. Here, information is eked out rather than vomited all at once to avoid an inauthentic tone. This setting also provides an immediate bond between characters whose only link is losing someone in this crash. Within this group are wives, siblings, granddaughters, girlfriends, and friends who are all looking for a way to begin this ongoing journey through what feels like insurmountable trauma.
If this all sounds emotionally draining, don’t worry, as there is some levity amid the many tears. Connie Britton covers this spectrum in her nuanced performance, reuniting with Katims for the first time since “Friday Night Lights” as widow Dee Dee. Whereas Eric (Kyle Chandler) and Tami Taylor have one of TV’s all-time great marriages, Dee Dee soon discovers her perfect life is a facade. 
This character steamrolls her way through most scenarios and is initially oblivious, but Britton ensures she is not simply a wealthy wife stereotype. Perfecting an “everything is fine” mask only works for so long, and Britton slowly peals back the layers of a woman who could easily be an insufferable force taking up all the oxygen in the room. Instead, her mix of rage, sorrow, and fear bubbles to the surface, and Britton is captivating, painting all of these shades. So many of her line readings emphasize Dee Dee’s dramatic exterior to the point of much-needed laughter, and maybe Britton will get the Emmy she deserved for “Friday Night Lights” in this part—it would be far from a pity win as she steals every moment.
The first time we meet Dee Dee is at a fancy lunch with her daughter Zoe (Audrey Corsa) to celebrate their birthdays, a joint event that family patriarch Charles (Ted Koch) never misses. Well, that is until he has to fly to Los Angeles, and the rest, you can guess. The reason for travel varies, and we only get to glimpse a handful of the 100-plus passengers on board. Establishing the people who will not be around for much of the series beyond flashbacks strengthens the audience’s relationship with those left behind. To see who they were and what they were doing before their lives were abruptly stopped short adds to our emotional journey too. 
The passengers on a plane traveling from New York to Los Angeles are diverse, which leads to an array of stories being told — including the different ways to honor the dead. Relationships are formed in the wake of this tragedy, from platonic support to complicated romance that cannot escape the specter of the past.
Legacy is another overarching theme contemplated by those left behind, such as Adriana (Anna Uzele), who has to decide whether she wants to follow in the trailblazing footsteps of her grandmother. Adriana’s story is complicated further by new and old entanglements that lend an air of melodrama. Uzele’s chemistry with Idris Debrand as Kojo balances out some unnecessary obstacles that distract rather than tension build.   
Fisher Stevens directs the first episode, which follows Edward and his family’s planned move from Manhattan to Los Angeles because his mom Jane (Robin Tunney), is a successful screenwriter. It is why their mother is sat separately from her husband and two sons (she is in first class), adding to the gut-wrenching scenes later on. Part of the reason the first episode hits square in the chest is the minutia at the airport and boarding the plane. Silly little things like who gets the window seat or putting luggage in the overhead bins are captured by Stevens. Dread builds from the first bump of turbulence to the moment everyone fears the worst. 
Showing the before moments ensures those who died aren’t simply faces recalled via flashbacks after the crash. Edward’s story doesn’t begin when he becomes the unlikely survivor; it is vital to have this anchor before becoming a national news story. Moving in with his aunt and uncle (who are experiencing personal struggles of their own) underscores how there is no roadmap to navigating this kind of trauma. 
Edward’s relationship with his new next-door neighbor Shay (Eva Ariel Binder), is as much about the awkwardness of being on the verge of adolescence as it is about the unusual circumstance behind Edward’s new home. Sometimes “Dear Edward” does feel like it is taking on too many different storylines, but O’Brien and Binder’s sweet friendship offers a respite from a lot of the crash misery. Growing up is challenging, even without the burden of what Edward has gone through. His Aunt Lacey (Taylor Schilling) is in denial before her nephew comes to live with her, and this new responsibility cracks her open. Schilling is great in this role, reminiscent of the “M3gan” setup but without a murderous robot girl singing “Titanium.”    
One brilliantly deployed soundtrack choice is enough to elicit an expletive because of its gut-punch quality. Much like the cryfest “This Is Us,” the score and songs are enough to cause immediate teary eyes. Whereas “This Is Us” took us on a decades-spanning journey of the Pearson clan, “Dear Edward” covers a wide ground with how many different overlapping stories it features. “This Is Us” proved in its final season that it was more than just crying catharsis; there is much about this new Apple TV+ drama filling the whole left by Dan Fogelman’s NBC hit.   
Last conversations in person, text messages, and FaceTime (remember, this is an Apple TV+ show) are all elements that echo and reverberate, pointing to guilt about the things both said and unsaid. Some conflicts are more pronounced than others, but regret is a theme running throughout. While some arcs seem wrapped by the end of the 10-part series, there are enough loose ends to warrant more time with these characters and overarching themes of survival—particularly regarding the correspondence hinted at in the title.     
Some of the tearjerking material leans a little maudlin, and the imaginary conversations and flashbacks with Edward’s brother Jordan (Maxwell Jenkins) lack subtlety. There is also the matter of everyone being in grief therapy except Edward, which, unsurprisingly, has consequences. However, “Dear Edward” presents a compelling and charming collection of stories that point to the power of community and connections even after the sky has fallen. [B]