The Imperative Themes In The ‘I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings’ TV Adaptation

 

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings tv film poster 1979.

The classic TV movie adaptation of Maya Angelou’s autobiography I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings may not have been directed by a woman, but this Fielder Cook helmed film delivers a poignant womanist message that would touch any Black girl’s spirit. From beginning to end, Angelou’s touches on the co-written screenplay (with Leonora Thuna) feels every inch steeped in her narrative that touches on her adolescence in the Deep South. 

Several key themes stand out— strong sibling bonding during an absolutely necessary time, the special branded Black girl’s desire to be a white girl, and blaming self for the consequences of rape and consequent murder. 

The film begins with Marguerite “Maya” and her older brother Bailey Jr. meeting their paternal grandmother at the train station in Stamps, Arkansas— with baggage tags pinned to their clothes. This unsettling scene showcases Black children as objects, not little vulnerabilities worthy of true guardianship. 

As Bailey Jr. (John Driver) recites William Ernest Henley’s Invictus poem from memory, Maya watches on with immense admiration.  

Bailey Jr. often has Maya (Constance Good) in constant awe and maybe some slight jealousy. 

Maya and Bailey Jr.’s relationship is the rigid backbone of I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings. The two close siblings willingly give one another support through the dark, heavy undercurrents of racism and living with god-fearing guardians. In Bailey Jr., Maya entrusts her deepest secrets including this strange, twisted belief that she is a punished white girl sentenced to a detestable blackness. Furthermore, Maya and Bailey Jr. tease each other and play as siblings do. Unfortunately, situations arise that call pause to their childhood— whites looking to defend a white woman’s honor (by harming any adult Black man) so that means hiding their Uncle Willy, witnessing demeaning humiliation of their grandmother by the white locals, and seeing a dead Black body for the first time. Thus, Maya and Bailey Jr. have to band together, be endearingly tight in order to be able to emotionally, psychologically, and physically handle the hard cruelties of the world. 

As a pack of vicious teenage white girls approach, Momma (Esther Rolle) tells Maya (Constance Good) to head inside the store.

With Maya’s admiration of whiteness and wishing to be a blond-haired, blue-eyed girl, also enters her disdain of the white girl’s vicious behavior. Maya believes that European beauty standards defeat hers, mentally contributing to her own erasure. Maya doesn’t value what she sees in the mirror, condemning that her reflection is an error that can only be corrected through her wild imagination. Back in her time, this blatant psychological problem was partly caused by popular toys and television marketed to an audience that did not value blackness. Of course, Maya would admire what she was seeing as beautiful, as prevalent. Interestingly enough, Maya can understand the beauty in her brother Bailey Jr.— idolize every inch of his face and manner. Beneath Maya’s perceptions, colorism may have played a contributing factor. To her— Black boys and Black men are attractive in every tone, but the whitest and brightest are the most feminine, the most worthy of idolization. 

Yet once the white girls come to insult Maya’s grandmother in front of their store, Maya is faced with the darker side of those with the most prized “beauty.” 

The girls watch Maya’s flirtatious father Bailey Sr. with a female admirer. Bailey Sr. has arrived to take his children to California (with a stop in St. Louis). This makes Maya unhappy. 

In addition to leaving their grandmother, Uncle Willy, and the store, another important person to give up was Miss Flowers (Madge Sinclair)— one of the first people who saw Maya’s gifted potential as a writer. 

Bailey Jr. is more excited to see Mother and Father more than Maya. Perhaps Maya is a clairvoyant girl who knows the outcome of leaving the safety (somewhat safety) of their grandmother’s store and sweet canned pineapple in Stamps. Through the car ride to St. Louis, Bailey Jr. rides up front with their philandering father Bailey Sr. Maya stews in the back, disheartened and disinterested. This behavior intensifies once meeting their mother. Maya is naturally distrustful. After all, Bailey Sr. and Vivian had abandoned their children. In love with both parents, Bailey Jr. eventually abandons Maya, leaving her prone to the dangerous attentions of her mother’s boyfriend, Mr. Freeman.   

Grandmother Baxter (Ruby Dee) catches the children overhearing adult business.

The violent assault by the pedophile transforms Maya. She becomes further withdrawn, further internalized. It is as though she has placed a metal fork in a socket and has been shocked into oblivion. Her joy has been depleted, evaporated. How can a child truly define the violence inflicted on their body, understand the implications of such a heinous act— especially a Black girl child with little self-esteem? It is only to Bailey Jr, her sweet, beloved brother and bestest friend, that Maya releases the unbearable weight of her attacker’s name. Instead of feeling some relief at Freeman’s death, a guilt-ridden Maya refrains from speaking. She believes that her vocalized words were an accomplice to what in her young, impressionable mind is humanity’s worst crime— murder. 

Sadly, this historical silence exists today— the notion that Black women must quietly keep Black man’s crimes to heed in order to protect him from prison/death and this starts early— earlier than Maya’s young age. The “ride or die” philosophy subtly brushes into Maya’s formative beliefs. Although the all-white jury acquitted Mr. Freeman of assaulting Maya, Maya still believed that he didn’t deserve any punishment. 

Vivian (Diahann Carroll) tries to cheer Maya up, even throwing a surprise party. Maya remains quiet and a frustrated Vivian can no longer parent her.

A still silent Maya is relieved to be back in Stamps. Once more, their grandmother meets them at the train station.

The cast brings a significant time in Angelou’s story to life led by brilliant newcomers Constance Good and John Driver as Marguerite and Bailey Jr. Warm voiced, utterly beautiful Esther Rolle plays the stern, gentle grandmother (lovingly nicknamed Momma) and revolutionary shop owner bringing community to Stamps. Diahann Carroll is a gem as the gorgeous singing mother Vivian Baxter who heartbreakingly doesn’t understand how deeply traumatized Maya is by the terrible events that transpire in St. Louis. Madge Sinclair delivers valid advice as Maya’s teacher Miss Tulip Flowers. Even Ruby Dee makes a memorable appearance as the Baxter matriarch of Vivian and three overprotective sons. 

Along with the layered story and its eloquent portrayers, Peter Marx’s moving soundtrack brings sweet, sorrowful, and joyous elements to the onscreen drama captured by Ralph Woolsey’s cinematography. 

Interesting that the ending is one of key changes to Angelou’s autobiography. Angelou has her younger self reciting the valedictorian speech complete with leading into the National Negro Anthem instead of another student. Perhaps this was a dream to only be made true through film. 

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings remains one of the most harrowing literary masterpieces ever written. Although a very heavy yet achingly familiar story, this homage film wholly celebrates Angelou’s impactful bravery in a defiant, meaningful way. It can be found on various YouTube channels that commemorate vintage Black films.