One of the prevailing stereotypes of the Middle Ages is that they were really, really dirty. According to many movies and TV shows (and even some histories), medieval people wallowed in constant filth, their bodies walking bacterial cultures, indoor plumbing a concept too fantastical to be considered. Modern historians generally agree that these images are overblown, but they’re hard to shake. 

For instance, Paul Greengrass’ medieval action film “The Uprising”—which I reviewed for America last week—opens with Andrew Garfield’s Essex farmer plodding through thick, shin-deep mud, his clothes, face and hair streaked with it. “Catherine Called Birdy” (2022), Lena Dunham’s adaptation of the classic young adult novel by Karen Cushman, similarly opens with its medieval protagonist soaked in mud. But unlike characters in “The Uprising,” she’s chosen to dive into the mud—and she’s having the time of her life. 

The joy of that opening scene establishes “Catherine Called Birdy” as a different beast from its more dour peers, and it sets the tone for a story full of bright colors, progressive gender politics and a gleefully anachronistic soundtrack. But I wanted to reflect on it a week after “The Uprising” because along with a shared era (medieval England, albeit a century apart), the films engage with similar themes (though in very different ways): rebellion, religion and dreaming of a better world. 

Catherine, called “Birdy” (Bella Ramsey), is the daughter of minor Lincolnshire nobility (Andrew Scott and Billie Piper) whose days involve playing pranks with her commoner friends and avoiding “lady lessons” with her nurse, Morwenna (Lesley Sharp). But she sees the end of her carefree days coming when she turns 14 and begins to menstruate. Marriage, at this point in history, was largely an economic arrangement—and a daughter’s greatest utility to her family (especially among nobles and royalty) was to make a financially advantageous match. This is particularly  urgent for Catherine’s family, since her father’s indulgent spending has left them broke. But Catherine hates being told what to do even more than needlework and dedicates herself to sabotaging her planned betrothal.

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Despite living in a time when religion suffuses every aspect of life, Catherine is not overly pious herself. She has a taste for mildly blasphemous curses (“Corpus bones!” and “God’s thumb!”) and is less than reverent with a muscular statue of Christ. But her favorite brother Edward (Archie Renaux) is a monk, and he is the one who challenges her to keep a daily journal, which forms the narrative spine of the story (and allows Catherine to narrate events to us). “Knowing your own story will be your salvation,” he tells her.

So Catherine tries on identities like new outfits, searching for one that fits. When Edward gives her a book of saints, she briefly devotes herself to holiness before growing frustrated. She imagines life as a knight, a vagabond, an independent woman. Many of these dreams are as fleeting as her interest in sainthood, but that’s all part of the process of growing up. Catherine doesn’t know who she is yet; this is how she finds out.

Dunham’s take on the material is decidedly modern, reminiscent of her work on HBO’s “Girls,” or the films of her erstwhile New York indie scene contemporary Greta Gerwig (“Lady Bird,” “Little Women”). Her goal isn’t “historical accuracy,” but to draw comparisons between Catherine’s struggles and the perennial struggle of women trying to determine their identities and futures in societies still influenced by patriarchy. 

There is a universal aspect to that story as well: We all struggle to reconcile what we want from our lives with the expectations that society, convention or family place upon us. And at certain points, who we want to be isn’t even clear to ourselves. We all have an inner compass pointing us somewhere—and we feel strongly when we deviate from it—but the direction is not always clear. 

When I first decided to write about “Catherine Called Birdy,” I thought I might discuss it as a story of discernment and vocation. But that isn’t entirely true. Catherine still doesn’t know what her future will look like by the end of the story, and she hasn’t developed concrete goals. But she gains something more important: the freedom to make that decision for herself and a deeper appreciation for the community that surrounds her. 

Good historical fiction reveals that while the customs and attitudes of the past may be alien to us, people have always been essentially the same. This is why we tell stories about the Middle Ages, or any historical period: not just to examine the past, but to hold a mirror up to the present. We may have running water and better hygiene, but “Catherine Called Birdy” reminds us that we have plenty in common with our medieval ancestors. Like them, we have to go through a lot of trial and error to figure out who we are called to be and how to best use the freedom afforded to us. And as we find the shape of our life story, maybe we, too, find our salvation.

“Catherine Called Birdy” is streaming on Amazon Prime.

John Dougherty is the director of mission ministry at St. Joseph's Preparatory School in Philadelphia, Pa., moderator of America's Catholic Movie Club, and author of Finding God in All Films: A Contemplative Approach to Watching Movies. You can find more of his work on his Substack, Roll Credits.