How the Star Wars trailer's childlike wonder reminded me why we love movies

The aftershocks of yesterday's Star Wars: The Force Awakens trailer are still being felt around the world. Debuting worldwide the new footage was received to unanimous praise, pleasing even the notoriously hard-to-please internet.

I saw people who'd be among the first to make fun of such dedicated fandom, confess to weeping tears of joy after hearing Luke Skywalker, seeing R2-D2, witnessing the Millennium Falcon take flight once more and seeing Han Solo and Chewbacca aboard it.

I didn't cry myself, and thought such a reaction ludicrous – but having given it some thought, I now found it entirely understandable.

Call it an advert peddled by a billion-dollar corporation seeking our hard-earned, and you'd be right. That's exactly what it is, but it is also a nigh-perfectly conceived trailer (itself an art-form in my opinion) and a reminder, tapping into a part of us that for many people lies dormant during adulthood.

Different generations have different memories of Star Wars. I first watched George Lucas's original trilogy when the 1997 special editions were released on VHS, which primed me for the prequel trilogy starting two years later. I saw it all, and loved it all until somewhere between Attack of the Clones (13-year-old me loved the Yoda duel) and Revenge of the Sith, when the reality of those disappointing prequels dawned on me.

Modern times have turned scepticism, apathy and hatred into badges of honour, and I truly hated those prequels in the years that followed, but those 'qualities' never existed in me as a child, nor I would hope, in any of us as children.

In my opinion a well-crafted blockbuster is the height of cinema. I have plenty of time and affection for quality dramas or documentaries, but make me choose between Empire Strikes Back and Citizen Kane and the raw entertainment value of the Battle of Hoth will win every time.

I've written about movies for years now, so I see the trailers and get myself excited for plenty of films. Guardians of the Galaxy was my most anticipated film of last year, as a big Jurassic Park fan Jurassic World cannot come soon enough and Christopher Nolan films always get me hot under the collar.

For me films like Jurassic World, last year's Interstellar and this month's Avengers: Age of Ultron can compete with the new Star Wars when it comes to levels of anticipation, but The Force Awakens is about a lot more than that.

It's the return of a world-renowned series that defined, pioneered and captivated like no other in Hollywood history. A series that floundered but endured and which is making a comeback with the hopes and wishes of its fans at the forefront of its mission statement.

And after yesterday's trailer fans are willing to give themselves to the hype, to hand themselves over to the possibility that they might be disappointed all over again because seeing all that iconic imagery stoked in them a dormant childlike wonder.

There's every possibility that The Force Awakens will disappoint us come December, but getting excited now doesn't mean being heartbroken in that event. I've been excited for films before only to shrug them off when they left a lot to be desired, and I'll be prepared to do so once more.

I have faith though that JJ Abrams - himself a lifelong and die hard Star Wars fan - can deliver, and should he, that's when something magical happens. When the months of anticipation, of counting down the days, is worth every second – when a film exceeds all expectations, that's how cinematic history is made.

We can all picture a child sat in a cinema screen, leaning forward out of sheer awe, almost toppling over, eyes wide with projected escapism. That was all of us once, and when Han Solo said: "Chewie, we're home", it was all of us again. For long-since jaded Star Wars fans, yesterday jolted that inner-child and the nostalgia was enough to move them to tears.

Those dismayed by that kind of response will eagerly say, "It's just a film!" and they're absolutely right. It is just a film, a silly, fantastical couple of hours, of which only two minutes has proven enough to bring joy to thousands around the world.

Isn't that just wonderful?