While the writing is sharp on the miniseries, created by Marissa Jo Cerar (The Fosters), the performances take already strong material and make it resonant.

What generally saves “Women of the Movement” from becoming a rote piece of didactic storytelling is both the empathy of the direction and vulnerability of its main actors. ... Warren and “Women of the Movement” alike are clear-eyed in their portrayals of how a past atrocity unfolded on the most personal levels, and how it continues to echo today.

The six-episode series, whose executive producers include Jay-Z and Will Smith, showcases some of the better qualities of network TV — wide visibility, a prestigious tone — with a dramatic and visual stiffness that might make you wish for a premium cable treatment. Even then, you’ll be better off for having watched it.

Framed as a profile of Mamie. That it isn’t, really, turns out to be both its biggest flaw and its saving grace. While the show—a rare serious, vividly realized period drama amid broadcast TV’s glut of procedurals—falls short of greatness, its existence as a counter-narrative to whitewashed histories feels crucial at a time when Americans are so fiercely divided over the very basics of how we teach and learn about race in our country.

The project carries the throwback feel of miniseries the way broadcasters used to make them, dealing with important topics and painful chapters in history.

“Women of the Movement” doesn’t succeed in shedding new light on the story, though it is thoughtfully made and devastating, enraging and necessarily difficult viewing. It also has an unmistakable Hollywood smoothness to it that sometimes feels at odds with the tenor of the story itself.

In a bid to be inclusive, it tries to do too much and isn’t navigated by a clear narrative voice. It’s not the first, and likely won’t be the last account of Emmett Till’s murder and aftermath. It’s unfortunate that it doesn’t do enough to separate itself from the deluge.