We'll say we loved it anyway. Why? Because we need to. It is
the realisation of a childhood fantasy, a dream we never imagined would come
true.
Not so long ago, the Hollywood studios were content for
their most beloved properties to remain in suspended animation in the catacombs
of their vaults. They seemed precious about certain titles, wanting to preserve
their dignity in the equivalent of cinematic museums, as if they were mummified
pharoahs that would perish into dust if brought to the surface.
And if it wasn't respect, perhaps it was pride. Maybe
subsequent studio heads believed they had it in them to make the next big
thing, and resisted taking the easy route offered by repeating their
predecessors’ past successes.
Consider the huge critical and commercial success of the
Godfather Parts I and II, yet Part III did not appear until sixteen years
later. There were gaps of seven and six years between the first three films in
the Alien franchise. E.T. never got a sequel despite being the highest grossing
movie of the 1980s.
But these days Hollywood has no such qualms, and regularly
loots the tombs of its past for anything that might be revived and made to sing
and dance again for a profit. And original ideas rarely make it out of infancy.
Now familiar figures return to greet us, like the half
remembered faces of friends and relatives long since departed. So Ridley Scott
revived his interest in Alien and Blade Runner. They reopened the gates of Jurassic
Park. Tron got a sequel 28 years later. And Indiana Jones dusted off the fedora
for another adventure.
And fans of those series couldn't believe their luck. It was
as if Father Christmas had finally gotten around to reading all those letters
they'd sent as children, and was granting those long forgotten wishes, one by
one. And carried along on a surge of marketing hype and nostalgia, we met the
returned with barely contained excitement, and a little trepidation.
But for the most part, once the excitement had worn off, and
the clamour of hyperbole had died down, we realised they were just pale
imitations of their ancestors. Like an image photocopied one too many times.
And so we are about to enter a phase that will see a new
Star Wars film released every year for the foreseeable future, or at least until
audiences lose interest.
But the thought of what that future might be like if these
films were to stink, is too terrible to bear. The idea that they will make as
insignificant an impression on us as the last trilogy of Star Wars films, does
not warrant consideration.
Because if Star Wars fails, what else is left?
And so we will say that we love them anyway. We will rate
them higher than they deserve. They will head our lists of the year's best
films. We will talk of Oscars. And we will decry the naysayers for their
inability to feel joy any longer.
We will paint over the flaws and embellish the good bits,
creating new, perfect versions in our minds, the same way we did as children,
imagining what new adventures in that galaxy far, far away might be like.
