Reality is just a illusion and the universe is a hologram: GRAVITY FALLS turns 10
by Emily Maesar, Associate Editor, TVJawn
In the tweet thread where he talked about Gravity Falls turning ten this month, Alex Hirsch apologized that “you all had to learn you were old this way.” And you know what? Thanks Alex, I actually really needed that, because every single time I remember that this show aired while I was in college and I am… decidedly not in college anymore, I feel ancient. So, thanks for the apology. It goes a long way.
Gravity Falls is the Disney Channel, and then Disney XD, animated series from Alex Hirsch about twins, Dipper (Jason Ritter) and Mable Pines (Kristen Schaal)), who spend one summer with their great uncle (Grunkle) Stan (Alex Hirsch), in his weird tourist trap business in Oregon. But nothing is as it seems in this children’s show with the aesthetic of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks and a twisted kid’s nightmare of Eldrich horror. Dipper discovers a mysterious book at the Mystery Shack (the aforementioned tourist trap) and, as strange things start happening around him and his sister, the journal seems to hold some of the answers. From wild gnomes to wax figures coming alive, the series starts off weird, but ultimately kind of normal. Until, that is, it spirals into absolute madness, ending in an ancient demon trying to destroy the world.
Basically, Gravity Falls absolutely rules.
What starts as a fairly standard, albeit odd, episodic show about two pre-teen twins dealing with weird stuff and learning lessons over a summer without their parents, turns into a desperate attempt to save the world from forces bigger than themselves. Dipper and Mable realize they have a second Grunkle (Ford, played by J.K. Simmons) and he’s been trapped in an alternate dimension by the ancient dream demon, Bill Cypher (Hirsch). Bill’s plan is to be freed from the mindscape and merge the Pines’ real world with the Nightmare Scape, taking control of everything and bringing forth Weirdmageddon.
The final stretch of the show, in season two, is some of the most interesting, deeply serialized children’s programming since Adventure Time’s later seasons. A shift for both shows that happened around the same time, and one that would carry on into other animated children’s programming that was inspired by them.
And over Gravity Falls’ two seasons, 40 episodes, and almost four years from start to finish, the show influenced a lot of other animated shows (Steve Universe, The Owl House, and Rick and Morty to name a few). And it grew a passionate, large fanbase that engaged with the series from the start, and continues to obsess over the show and Hirsch’s future endeavors to this day. While on the air, Gravity Falls was Disney XD’s highest rated series, with nearly 2 million viewers per episode. Even after the series ended, Alex Hirsch set up an international treasure hunt to pay homage to all the codes, cryptograms, backward messages, and other clues left throughout the series (many of which, once deciphered, let loose huge spoilers about the future of the show). He called it the “Cipher Hunt,” with the ultimate goal being the hunt for the real-life statue of Bill Cipher, which was shown briefly in the show’s finale. The hunt was wildly successful, as you can imagine.
I, personally, have no interest in or energy for codebreaking, but I think it’s neat and I really appreciate Hirsch’s commitment and interest in it. It’s deeply cool to see how influential that passion was on the creation of one of my favorite shows of all time. And, quite selfishly, I enjoy benefitting from people doing the actual work to decode and find the answers. (This is also my strategy whenever Taylor Swift releases vault track titles for her recent rerecordings. I don’t have it in me to try and do that, but I will be looking at the answers. Thank you all for your service.)
And with how important these intricate plans are to the plotting of Gravity Falls, it makes perfect sense that, according to Hirsch, he’d had the ending of the show planned since he pitched the series. He was even pretty sure he could wrap the story in two or three seasons (an idea I find quite admirable). However, having never run a show before, he was exhausted by everything that went into making a 20 episode season of an animated show for Disney and wanted to wrap the show after its first season. After talking to Patrick McHale (creator of Over the Garden Wall), though, he agreed that he couldn’t just leave the series on the cliffhanger of the first season. Hirsch wanted to do a shorter season, ten episodes at the most, but Disney’s mandate (at least at the time) was to “only take seasons in twenties.” Ultimately, Hirsch agreed to a second season of twenty episodes, but added into his contract that season two would be his final one. A fact that he couldn’t tell anyone, including the actors, per Disney.
Which leads me to something I really admire about Hirsch, himself. Since his contract with Disney ended (he currently has an overall deal with Netflix, though I’m still waiting for his series to come out) he’s been very, very vocal about the company’s policies on queerness in children’s animation. As well as more obtuse things, like Standards & Practices notes—he recently put up a video of him recreating emails between him and the S&P department. It’s perhaps the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time.
Hirsch was pleased for the creators of The Owl House, when they were seemingly allowed to have explicit queer representation, but didn’t hold back on all the times he was told by the big mouse in the sky that they had to cut queer characters from Gravity Falls as early as storyboards. And it’s something he’s still (quite rightfully) mad about. He brings it up every single time Disney tries to do something to prove how inclusive and supportive they are—because words don’t mean anything without actions, and I am personally pissed there aren’t more queer characters in Gravity Falls. It’s rude as hell and I know that Hirsch didn’t cut the queerness on his own accord.
But even without my want for open queerness in media, particualrly children’s media where it is dramatically underrepresented for a variety of reasons, I’ve always been madly in love with Gravity Falls. It was introduced to me by my friend Aaron in college, because we share similar interests in animation (among other mediums, but particularly animation). And it’s a series that spoke, and continues to speak, ever so ardently to the weirdo kid, teenager, and adult in me. I did my first cosplay because of Gravity Falls. Like Dipper, I simply adore Wendy Corduroy, who is voiced by the actual all-time crush worthy actress Linda Cardellini. I had never had the wherewithal to put together an outfit for a convention, but doing one for a character in normal clothes, but with a very specific look? That was golden. I even got recognized and found a Dipper and a Mabel to take a picture with. Pure joy, you know?
Basically, Gravity Falls remains one of my favorite shows of all time. It takes twists and turns that I could probably never think of, but that I delight in deeply. It does horror so imaginatively, bringing Eldritch horror into a very specific light. The animation is beautiful (my favorite shot, possibly ever, is in the opening credit), the music is stunning, and the story is magically rendered with thought and care.
Ten years later, hell twenty years later, I think we’ll remember that Alex Hirsch and company made something entirely otherworldly. And they continue to. One of my favorite films from last year, The Mitchells Vs. The Machines, was written and directed by two Gravity Falls alums (Mike Rianda & Jeff Rowe). Netflix’s conspiracy series Inside Job (created by Shion Takeuchi, also a Gravity Falls alum) is going into its second season—it’s also really great. I can only imagine what other supremely good stories are going to come out of the Mystery Shack of Gravity Falls, especially once we see what Hirsch has been cooking for his Netflix series. Until then, we can relish in the absurdity of Disney putting Gravity Falls in their Pride Collection on Disney+ and Hirsch simply responding “lolwut.”