Chris Sheridan
Back in the day, my family went to Mass weekly on Saturday nights, and afterwards, we would go downstairs to the library to visit the ladies staffing it and see what they had. There were some fun mainstays that we’d check out and enjoy before returning them the following week, a lot of them cornerstones of Christian values (especially VeggieTales, which is a whole other conversation). Pretty good stuff back then for the most part.
But Bibleman? Bibleman was the real sh*t. When there was a new Bibleman VHS available at the church’s library, I couldn’t check that out fast enough. Bibleman was awesome.
In hindsight, I can see why single-digit age Chris was all about Bibleman. It was pretty silly, and had some good messages and entertaining action sequences. Now, I’m 36, existentially terrified, and while it still has a lot of important messages for the kids (which are obvious virtues now for you and me), I am reminded that it’s stupid as hell, it knows that, but is still very, very wholesome. Is it bad? Oh yeah. But it’s fun. It intentionally cranks the camp to 11 into “so bad it’s good” territory, without losing its core focus as healthy formative Christian programming. In rewatching, there were a lot of extremely silly, campy smaller moments that I had completely forgotten about and still make me laugh. More than a few moments of attempts at humor fall embarrassingly flat, but I can’t fault the series for swinging for the fences, and it hits far more often than it misses.
Bibleman’s origin: Miles Peterson is rich, he’s established, and successful. But he feels like “something is lacking.” Late one night, in the pouring rain, Miles drops to the ground, screaming in anguish. But then, he finds a Bible that’s buried right there in the mud for some reason and opens it. Suddenly, a beam of light comes from the heavens, and he decides that he wants to be a Christian. And not just any Christian! He wants to be a superhero. And a superhero he becomes, with a horrible theme song, an apparent thirst for demon blood as he frequently kills demons in the guise of humans, and teaching the kids lessons about overcoming obstacles to connecting with the Lord (while overcoming those obstacles himself) using Scripture.
Every episode, Bibleman dons the Full Armor of God from Ephesians 6:10-18. And he doesn’t just put it on (nor is it a suit of literal armor); he steps into a crevice and lightning and smoke phase it onto him while his sidekick (either Coats in early episodes, or Cypher later) and his computer U.N.I.C.E. call out the pieces: Waistbelt of Truth, Breastplate of Righteousness, Shoes of Peace, Shield of Faith (gauntlets in this case), and Helmet of Salvation. And then he steps out. “And the Sword of the Spirit.” This gets a special mention from him, because the Sword of the Spirit is a f*cking lightsaber. And that’s badass.
A cornerstone of the series is when Bibleman is dueling the villain of the episode, they lock blades and the villain will taunt Bibleman, (sometimes they exchange some remarkably stupid jabs), and Bibleman counters with a relevant Bible verse. Surprisingly, it works very well: it’s campy, but also delivers an important message for the kids. And it’s always a very specific verse—not just generically “don’t be angry at others” or whatever: it’s a direct reference to what the episode is trying to teach using verbatim scripture. Good on them for actually putting in the work to encourage youngsters to have an interest in and remember Bible verses, and I was just talking with my sister the other day who plans on showing this to her young daughters (one of whom is adorably enamored with Bible stories). But the wholesomeness is all still delivered with a healthy dose of absurdity.
It was my favorite element when I was a kid, and it still is (possibly even more so): the villains themselves. In the first couple of episodes, we get The Fibbler and the Queen of Gossip, who are fine. But after that, when the show starts to hit its stride, Brian Lemmons plays the recurring villain in the series under a different guise each episode, trying over and over again to corrupt children and defeat Bibleman. Lemmons is clearly having the time of his life delivering each iteration of a new villain themed after things that would distance one from God: Shadow of Doubt, Dr. Fear, El Furioso, Prince of Pride, and so on. He eventually just calls himself by his true name, Luxor Spawndroth, which we’ll use going forward for the sake of simplicity.
One of my favorite bits is when he’s asked with incredulity who he’s supposed to be “this time.” Lemmons elevates the camp to a new level, and is a blast to watch. I’d be remiss to not mention his right-hand henchman, Ludicrous, an impressively stupid individual with a stoner-lite cadence and a really fun character for Spawndroth to bounce off of. Unfortunately, the later version of Ludicrous is not nearly as fun, but whatever.
Every now and then, Spawndroth’s current villain persona gets a musical number. These are usually surprisingly catchy and enthusiastically performed. My absolute favorite is “Shadow of Doubt,” both for the dance choreography and for the actually really funny (albeit really corny) lyrics.
After Spawndroth is finally definitively vanquished, there’s a new villain called Primordius Drool (later called The Wacky Protestor), who I won’t get into too much since I never watched his episodes back in the day. I did watch a little bit for this piece mainly out of curiosity, and while Drool just doesn’t have the same vibe as Spawndroth, his stuff is, at its core, still really dumb and campy. I laughed a couple of times at how stupid it all was, despite it getting a little too high on its own supply and trying a little too hard. There are a couple of genuinely funny bits (particularly a duel/song/dance-off between Protester and Cypher that is absolutely deranged), but in general it just doesn’t bring the specific energy that Lemmons had.
A good friend of mine, when I mentioned that I was doing this piece, offered to give an episode a watch having no knowledge of the show, just to see how an adult without the nostalgia would take it. After watching “Defeating the Shadow of Doubt,” the “pilot” of sorts of that era (?) of Bibleman, he called it a “fascinating artifact of TV history” and noted that it kind of has a homemade quality that reflects that of some YouTube/TikTok creators, and felt a bit like MST3K. He also noted it’s clear that everyone is having a blast making it (I wholeheartedly agree), appreciated the occasional fourth-wall-breaking humor, and finally that he could see how nostalgia could motivative revisiting or even possibly a binge.
Revisiting Bibleman was a very fun blast from the past, a reminder of what made me love the series as a kid, and a renewed appreciation for its self-aware stupidity in between its commendably specific formative lessons for children on their path to God. Would I just jump into these when I happen to be bored and need something to watch? Probably not (but don’t hold me to that). Will I show these to my kids (if I ever have them)? Absolutely. While I might have outgrown it significantly, and admittedly lapsed in my own faith, I did and always will appreciate it not only for the value it has for children in their own spiritual journeys, but for its ridiculous camp and genuinely entertaining vibe.
Pretty much all of the episodes are on YouTube, so if curiosity strikes, I hope you can have some fun checking them out.
