It was never the most original storyline - a mixed bag of workers discovering something nasty in the woodpile which ends up devouring them one by one.

But director Ridley Scott, who cut his teeth on TV's Z-Cars and had only one major feature - The Duellists - under this belt, decided to set it in space.

The result was a spine-shredding cat and mouse chiller, although the cat in this case was a reptilian killing machine whose predatory instinct was only matched by its appetite.

A clean and precise movie, it adhered to the dictum that less is more - so you never actually see it in its entirety - just a dripping, machine-like mandible a lethally swishing tail.

Rather than eat its victims, the alien impregnated them in the most nightmarish way possible - clamping itself to their faces and inserting a rampant nipper.

Visually, the film was divided, with Rob Cobb responsible for the design of the space-ship, a vast lumbering deep-space cargo vessel ready for a galactic breaker's yard.

Eccentric Swiss-born designer HR Giger's unique vision became the alien - the cinematic template for vengeful life-forms ever since. (He also designed the alien lair, with rather fruity references to female genitalia.)

Unlike previous space-set yarns, the voyage of the Nostromo's crew - basically a bunch of grimy space truckers - was essentially a mundane one.

Scott also injected the drama with humour - witness the laddish exchanges between engineers Brett and Parker (Kotto and Dean Stanton) - which made the dynamics of the crew so believable.

To many a pimply whippersnapper, it also elevated Weaver's Third Officer Ripley to an iconic status, in no way hindered by a totally gratuitous scene whcn Sigourney wrestles into a space suit in her smalls.

Almost 25 years on, a director's cut - featuring total digital remastering and restored footage as well as a refreshed soundtrack - is docking at a cinema near you.

They said in space no-one could hear you scream. The screams just got louder.

Tim Evans