• Luboml: My Heart Remembers (April 29; 10 to 11 p.m.; Channel 21) evokes, from archival footage, on-camera interviews, and a return visit, a Polish shtetl that lasted from the fourteenth century until the Nazis. Only the cemetery in Luboml, now part of Ukraine, testifies to a Jewish past.
• Sisters in Resistance (April 30; midnight to 1 a.m.; Channel 13) eavesdrops on a reunion in Paris of four remarkable women and then details their 50 years of friendship since they chose in their youth to resist the Nazi occupation of France and through camaraderie survived imprisonment in the Ravensbruck concentration camp.
• Burden of Innocence (May 1; 9 to 10 p.m.; Channel 13), in which Ofra Bikel and Frontline follow up their own story on a prisoner released after eighteen years in Louisiana’s Angola state prison when DNA testing cleared him of a rape charge, finds him three years later jobless, homeless, and living in his car. Even his own odd celebrity seems to have worked against him.
• The Directors: Cameron Crowe (May 3; 11 a.m. to noon; Encore) lets Tom Cruise, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Bridget Fonda, etc. talk about the still-young director when he isn’t talking about himself, between clips from Vanilla Sky, Almost Famous, Jerry Maguire, Singles, and Say Anything.
• Tennessee Williams’ The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone (May 4; 8 to 10 p.m.; Showtime) stars Helen Mirren as the middle-aged actress who must decide, in postwar Rome, whether sex is all that’s left to her after the death of her husband (Brian Dennehy) and her career—and if so, whether she’s willing to buy such sex from either a gigolo (Olivier Martinez) or a street beggar (Rodrigo Santoro). Anne Bancroft plays the pimp-contessa, and Roger Allam is a sort of Williams surrogate, as overblown as the story itself and the soundtrack that tells us how to feel.
• Lucy (May 4; 8 to 11 p.m.; cbs), with Rachel York as America’s favorite redhead comedienne and Danny Pino as her bad-tempered, hard-drinking, Cuban-born womanizer of a husband, goes behind the scenes of Desilu to tell a sad but familiar domestic story. But York is a revelation, with the voice down perfect and the physical comedy at least approximate.