What will we do if Star Wars: The Force Awakens is rubbish?

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.