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Fun fact: For my 10th grade precalculus project, I drew a pig named “Waddles” with a graphing calculator. It had trigonometric functions for legs, hyperbolas for cheeks, and simple lines detailing its little snout. The pig wasn’t mine. In fact, the pig wasn’t even real. Waddles—as my project stated—is a pig originally named 15 Poundie won by Mabel Pines, one of the protagonists of a Disney cartoon called “Gravity Falls.”

“Gravity Falls” in a nutshell, is about two twins—Dipper and Mabel Pines—who spend the summer in Gravity Falls, Oregon with their conman great-uncle, whom they affectionately dub “Grunkle Stan.” As the series progresses, the town’s odd and supernatural behavior pushes Dipper on a quest to unveil Gravity Falls’s secrets, with the help of a strange notebook detailing paranormal creatures and Mabel, whose collection of hand-knitted sweaters and grappling hook are representative of her adorable, can-do attitude. They encounter rainbow-vomiting gnomes, a secret society, and a mysterious entity named “Bill Cipher” who poses a looming, ominous presence over both seasons of the show.

The show—produced by Alex Hirsch—is legitimately funny. It doesn’t rely on its ridiculousness to evoke some half-hearted laughter, unlike most shows. Instead, “Gravity Falls” is surprisingly witty and self-aware. It takes old jokes, worn down by years of use on television, and turns them on their heads. “It’s covered with blood, sweat, tears, and other fluids,” Mabel says to a crowd gathered to see her life-sized wax figures. At the end of another episode, Dipper and Mabel share a tender moment. “Awkward sibling hug?” Dipper asks, holding his arms wide, his eyes darting around nervously. “Awkward sibling hug,” Mabel confirms, and the two share a sweet hug, punctuated perfectly when the two’s eyes open wide, and they say “Pat, pat” as they mechanically pat each other’s backs. The humor in “Gravity Falls” is always unexpectedly unique and well-timed.

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But of course, humor isn’t enough to successfully sustain a show, and Hirsch knows that. So the comedy takes a backseat to the real plot, which stretches over the span of 40 episodes, leading to an incredible season finale. It’s here where the show’s true genius comes to light. The worldbuilding is excellent—details that may seem totally random eventually find their place. Grunkle Stan’s mysterious snack machine escapes are revealed to be integral to the plot. A giant “Time Baby” returns to fill up a plot hole. Even the gnomes of the first episode make their way into the series finale. Hirsch crafts a tightly-knit story arc that builds and builds with each episode. It’s incredibly satisfying and exciting when more questions are answered, and more questions are asked. The entire show is essentially like one big movie, with episodes that can stand alone but really shouldn’t be watched like that.

I’m convinced that “Gravity Falls” is a masterpiece, and that every aspiring storywriter—whether for novels, stages, or televisions—should watch it and take notes. Technically, the show is perfect. And emotionally, this show soars. We’re introduced to Dipper and Mabel at a sensitive and somewhat confusing time in their lives: the preteen years. So expect themes of first loves, puberty, and identity to work their way through. Their own personal struggles are reminiscent of the common challenges everyone past their teens have faced, making the show wonderfully relatable. “Gravity Falls” also touches on ideas of family, loyalty, and selfishness. Grunkle Stan struggles to live in the shadows of others. Dipper and Mabel—called the Mystery Twins—sometimes need to overcome certain differences to protect one another. Soos—a kindhearted, lovable friend and Mystery Shack worker—has a heartbreaking past involving an absent father. “Gravity Falls” is deep. It’s complex and witty and extremely well-written, and I don’t feel the least bit guilty being a fan.

—Staff writer Grace Z. Li can be reached at grace.li@thecrimson.com.