TV preview: heroin's child

IT'S A TOUCHING FAMILIAL SCENE I'm sure we're all familiar with: mother and daughter jump in the car for a lovely day out celebrating the latter's 21st birthday. Mum has paid for a massage and makeover, but first they have to stop at a cash machine because the girl wants to borrow some money. Kids, eh? Daughter gets out of the car, cash in hand, and nips around the corner to score some heroin. Junkies, eh?

Compiled over the course of a year by award-winning film-maker Jane Treays, Mum, Heroin and Me charts the bleak saga of heroin addict Hannah and her long-suffering mother, Kate.

Hailing from a comfortably middle-class background, Hannah was born with a rare, debilitating colonic disease which meant that her childhood was spent in and out of hospital. Bullied at school, pretty, intelligent Hannah left at 15 without any qualifications and quickly descended into a quagmire of alcohol and drugs. She now lives a listless, apathetic, sordid existence with boyfriend Gary, a fellow addict. Flitting from gutter to hostel to squat, they seem to function in slow-motion, their lives utterly bereft of joy or meaning other than yearning for that next hit (heroin addicts being much like Leo Sayer in that respect).

Kate has tried to support her daughter as best she can, to the detriment of her own health and marriage. She loves Hannah dearly and is obviously fond of Gary, despite the fact he once burgled her house. Only occasionally does she begrudgingly succumb to giving Hannah money for drugs: like any good mother, she does all she can to ensure her daughter's happiness.

Treays wanted to make a film about the unbreakable bond between parents and their children, and she pulls it off effectively. Although a slight overuse of emotive music threatens to sentimentalise proceedings, her film is still commendably non-judgmental and unsparingly frank (scenes of Hannah shooting up are horrendous). If it challenges preconceptions about drug abuse, homelessness, health care and parental responsibility, it's done its job. Uncomfortable viewing in the best sense.

Bollywood film icon Sanjay Dutt is the enigmatic fulcrum around which Shot in Bombay revolves. While facing trial for illegal possession of weapons (with possible links to Indian terrorist activity), the brooding idol is also starring in a big-budget action movie based – extremely loosely, it would appear – on a controversial real-life police siege in which around 500 armed officers killed eight gangsters.

The story of the Indian authorities' war against organised crime is much more interesting than the making of the film itself (this rather unfocused documentary feels at times like an extended DVD promotional feature), although its gung-ho director Apoorva Lakhia ("I like making manly films… I find violence romantic") is good value. His habit of yelling "mind-blowing!" after virtually every take suggests that we aren't dealing with a sensitive artist here.

From the hilariously OTT clips we see of Shootout At Lokhandwala, it looks like typically risible action schlock. AA Khan, the real-life police chief played by Dutt, emerges as a ruthless operator whose "shoot first, ask questions later" attitude (Dirty Harry is his hero, naturally) makes him seem almost as amoral as the criminals. His involvement with the movie, however, means he's portrayed as a maverick hero wiping scum from the mean streets of Bombay. "It's glorification for the masses," shrugs one producer.

After six fascinating, genuinely revealing episodes, Amazon with Bruce Parry finally comes to an end. Parry's arduous seven-month journey down this mighty river has been anthropological travelogue telly at its best. Enthusiastic, passionate and thoughtful, Parry is a terrific host, on typically fine form in an episode about the moral complexities surrounding deforestation.

He begins with a visit to a cattle ranch (Brazil is now the world's largest exporter of beef) situated on land which until recently was untouched forest. Parry grapples with calves and rides a bull for all of two seconds before being thrown to the ground. "That hurt!" he guffaws with typical good humour.

But it's not all japes. One of the most striking things about this series is the way Parry has presented a serious overview of the problems affecting Amazonian life. Illegal lumber trafficking, controversial industrial redevelopment and slavery are just three of the issues tackled here. It exposes most similar programmes for the trite exercises in cultural tourism they are.