In 2012, Disney Channel debuted a new animated series called “Gravity Falls.” Focusing on the mysteries of the titular town through the eyes of twin protagonists Dipper and Mabel Pines, the show was a success on the various Disney cable channels until its conclusion in 2016. The show gained notoriety for its maturity and themes darker than those typical of Disney productions, and it gathered a fandom of audiences of all ages.
On a personal note, the show matters a lot to me. Without “Gravity Falls” I would not have my love for horror movies or consider television as a medium for meaningful storytelling. If you’ve read my other reviews published in The Observer, I’ve certainly gathered a lot to say about both horror and TV over the last few years, so you can thank the folks behind this show for that. But also, more importantly, I share the same birthday as the central characters of the Pines Twins, and to a young me, there was nothing cooler than that.
The show operates on a deep level, featuring codes and cryptic teases scattered throughout episodes to create a narrative that becomes fully visible once fully watched. To supplement this, Disney published a version of the main character’s in-universe “Journal,” whose contents and author fuel many of the misadventures seen in the series. This was published in July 2016, around half a year after the finale’s airing.
And then there was nothing. I was 11 when the tie-in book was published, and I read it so many times. To a young fan like me, it was mind-blowing how so much of the story could be told in a narrative that wasn’t even necessary to enjoy the show itself! Fun fact about the “Journal”: It is the only place to learn Dipper Pines’s real name. He is one of the two central protagonists of the series, and this was saved for the goofy book that came out after. But to fans of the show, this “Journal” was more than a goofy book; it recontextualized the dynamic between central villain Bill Cipher and enigmatic author Ford Pines, great-uncle to the main twins. Through his journal, we learn how close and twisted the relationship between these two looming figures really was before the show’s start, all of this six months after the show ended.
And then there was nothing. Well, not literally nothing. Reruns on Disney Channel and more tie-in books (though none as formal or impressive as the “Journal”) kept the fandom engaged, if not bored. It was hard to speculate and make content about a show with nothing new to offer. Then, something crazy happened this summer. Showrunner and creator Alex Hirsch announced “The Book of Bill,” a pseudo-sequel and spin-off of the show in book form. It’s hard to top an eight-years-post-finale book announcement in shock value, but Hirsch managed to: He later announced that the book was not for children.
The fandom is comprised of older viewers now, but they were young back when it was first airing, and it remains entertaining for children still. And, despite the horrors and dread the show was known for, it worked well for younger audiences. How does a show go from TV-Y7 to R-rated, no admission under 17? The simple answer: Make subtext obvious.
A horrifying notion of any adventure show for children is how close these protagonists are to death on a near constant basis. “The Book of Bill” addresses this by showing various illustrations of all the ways the central twins could have died throughout the show (in a nice touch, every single one references an actual episode or villain). But maturity is not limited to just death; the intense friendship between Ford and Bill is not explicitly stated to be a romantic relationship, but the book implies it was an intensely toxic and abusive relationship between the two, so much so that Bill has to go to literal therapy to process it. There’s a joke where he shows up to a drive-through inebriated, and the subtext is obvious: The clash between the two wasn’t a battle between good and evil. They’re just exes
Now, confirming a relationship between two characters, even as subtly as the book did, will reignite any formerly active fandom. I turned 20 on Saturday, Aug. 31. Becoming an adult is a horror greater than any monster in the show and a greater adventure than animation can contain. But, as I approached the birthday I share with these fictional children, seeing the fandom creating new and fresh art and content to appreciate the show helped me feel like a little kid, even if I won’t be one ever again.
