Le Voyage Dans La Lune (Georges Méliès, France, 1902)
The face of the moon with a space ship stuck in his eye is one of the iconic images of science fiction cinema. Stage magician Georges Méliès revelled in the new medium of film. It enabled him to do tricks he could only dream of before: making people vanish instantaneously was a favourite. The women in this, the original space epic, take roles that were to follow them through the history of science fiction cinema. On Earth they are the scientists' assistants that came to litter the films of the 1930s and 40s. On the moon they are Selenites, beautiful alien ancestors of the likes of Sil (Species) and Leeloo (The Fifth Element); they are led by their alien queen - another staple of the genre, as we see from the next film in our list...

The Thing (from Another World) (Christian Nyby, USA, 1951)**
Through the 1950s the female assistants-to-male-scientists had started to become scientists themselves - though sometimes more in name than nature. Although Margaret Sheridan's character here, Nikki, is not one of those scientists, she does herald their arrival with her actions; however, her key contribution shows that women still had some way to go. Threatened in their arctic base by a vegetable-based, alien creature, a group of men run out of ideas on how to kill it. Nikki musters her 'female' experience to suggest that they cook it: "boil it, bake it, stew it, fry it". John Carpenter's 1982 sequel has no female characters (barring the voice of the chess computer). It would seem that the men had learned to cook by then - women were redundant.

Barbarella (Roger Vadim, France/Italy, 1967)
If you're looking for greatness, move to the next entry in this list. If you're looking for science fiction ideas, do likewise. But if you're looking for a tittalating school-boy-esque exploitation of the director's sexy wife of the time, then keep reading. There are arguments that Barbarella takes control of sex and her sexuality and so becomes a feminist icon, but from the opening zero-g striptease, through the lingerie-inspired costumes to the BDSM city of Sado and the orgasm machine, this film clearly screams male-fantasy. Based on Jean-Claud Forest's comic strip, Vadim's piece has Jane Fonda stumble from one 'erotic' scenario to the next, with an innocence not unlike Altaira's. So why has Barbarella become one of the genre's enduring icons? Sex, colour, glamour, the force of Fonda's personality. Oh, and it's fun. The remake, slated for 2010, has a hard act to follow.

Planet of the Apes (Franklin J. Schaffner, USA, 1968)
Like Barbarella, this is based on French science fiction literature - this time Pierre Boulle's novel, La Planète des Singes (Monkey Planet). Charlton Heston's female astronaut colleague dies in the opening sequence, leaving the film with two key female roles. The first is Linda Harrison's pelt-clad savage, Nova (an echo of Raquel Welch in One Million Years BC), thrown to Heston as a sexual mate; the second character is Kim Hunter's chimpanzee, (Dr) Zira. As the film's voice of reason, Zira continues the tradition passed down through The Day The Earth Stood Still from Metropolis. It is interesting to note that, despite the many changes in Tim Burton's 2001 're-imagining', these central female characters remain intact. Perhaps they say something to the psyche.

Solaris [aka: Solyaris] (Andrei Tarkovsky, USSR, 1971)**
A psychological masterpiece from the haunting novella by Stanslaw Lem. This film takes for its subject the implicit nature of the science fiction film itself: a vehicle for male fantasy. Orbiting the planet Solaris in a space station, Kris is visited by an apparition of his dead wife. The planet has the power to materialise human thought. The women in this film are by definition male-constructs, and so they conform to male (often sexual) fantasies. Not revealing in itself, but the notion is turned on its head when Kris loses control of his fantasy, and it starts to control him. A treatise on desire and isolation, this has been dubbed the 'Soviet 2001'. Tarkovsky certainly had Kubrick's famed perfectionism - and the run of the studio. Almost half of his next science fiction masterpiece, Stalker, was completely re-shot after the director was unhappy with the results. [Steven Soderbergh's restrained 2002 remake with George Clooney and Natascha McElhone is also worth a visit]

Star Wars (George Lucas, 1977)
This may have been the film that forced science fiction film out of its low budget B-movie status (2001 notwithstanding), but it did little for the role of women in the genre. Lucas famously drew together bits and pieces from other sources: film, literature, culture and bound these with the writings of Campbell, Jung and Castaneda. The execution is first-rate and there are, of course, some original elements, but Carrie Fisher's Leia is not one of them. Take away the space ships and the blasters and you're left with a fairy-tale princess in a tower waiting to be rescued by her knights in shining (white) armour. Her feisty-fighter nature is developed a little more in The Empire Strikes Back, but that work is arguably undone by the gold bikini in Return of the Jedi. For the most interesting of Lucas' female characters, don't go forwards to the prequels: take a look back to THX 1138 (1971).

Alien (Ridley Scott, UK, 1979)**
Much imitated and highly influential, this is the undisputed #1 in the women-in-science-fiction-film canon. Thirty years after the event it's difficult to imagine the impact that this film had on the film-going public. If nothing else, Alien's legacy is the tough, lithe, gun-toting women that we find in The Terminator, Total Recall, The Matrix and many other films; but there's more to it than this. Alien takes risks from the start. There's no dialogue for more than 6 minutes and the dark, grubby space ship eschews the largely clean lines of 2001 and Star Wars; but perhaps Alien's biggest gamble is Sigourney Weaver's Ripley. When the crew of the spaceship Nostromo is ravaged by a primeval, predatory alien, Lt. Ellen Ripley is the last to survive - the pride of women everywhere, and a remarkable point in the history of women in the genre. However, like Coma, this film sees a need to expose the woman's femininity. Alien does this most notably when Ripley risks her life to save the cat, and in the 'strip' sequence at the film's climax. Much has been written about these elements: they may be indications of the implicit sexism of a male director, but they may be there merely to indicate Ripley's representative humanity in the face of the alien. After all, women are human too.

Blade Runner [The Director's Cut] (Ridley Scott, USA, 1982 [1992])
Ridley Scott again, this time with one of the enduring favourites of the canon. If we were looking for a crude distinction between science fiction literature and science fiction film, we might say that the former relies on ideas and the latter on spectacle. Blade Runner offers both. The ideas here come from philosophical science fiction writer Philip K. Dick and his short story 'Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep'; the images owe much to the earlier future-city visions of Metropolis and Things to Come (of which, more here). The resulting film belongs entirely to Scott. The female roles don't revolutionise the genre in the way his Ripley did; in fact Scott offers us three very different, but (literally) male-created, fantasy women, whose roots also go back to Metropolis. However, this story goes further: it questions the nature of creation, and examines the responsibilities of the (male) creator. The Director's Cut, released in 1992, places the women and men on a more equal footing by making victims of both.

The Terminator (James Cameron, UK/USA, 1984)
When we think of Sarah Connor, it's easy to recall the tough, gun-toting, guerrilla-fighter of Terminator 2: Judgement Day; but remember how she started: an absent-minded mother and waitress - potential victim to Arnold Schwartznegger's iconic T-800 cyborg assassin. Connor's polarised character, and development through this first film, is not merely an attempt to create an interesting character arc; it's an insurance policy. In order to ensure that 1984 audiences accept the finale's feisty fighter, her character is 'balanced' with the more familiar 'feminine' images and traits. We see this balancing act played out throughout the genre. Sometimes the alter-egos are contained in one character: Metropolis, Solaris; sometimes they are shared: Westworld, Blade Runner. The star of this film is Arnie, but, as with Alien, the foundation has been laid for a female-focused sequel...

Aliens (James Cameron, USA/UK, 1986)**
Generally regarded as the best of the Alien films (though not my favourite), Aliens does not have to concern itself with the niceties of Ripley's back story, or explain her nature. We know she's a woman, we know she's organised and we know she's tough; however, we didn't know she was this tough! Aliens develops Ripley's female-fighter role, but again, is careful to emphasise the heroine's feminine side: the animal-lover in Alien and the lover/mother in The Terminator become surrogate mother here. But Cameron's balancing act does far more than this: it sets the seeds for discussions about identity and loyalty which will sustain the franchise. When the 'synthetic' Bishop saves Ripley's surrogate child, Newt, in the climactic sequence, it reminds Ripley - and us - of our ingrained prejudices. Bishop responds to Ripley's own heroism with: "not bad for a human". Ripley is beginning to be defined not by her gender, but by her actions, her reactions, and her innate humanity. She is becoming a feminist icon.

The Abyss (James Cameron, USA, 1989)
Another James Cameron film and another strong female protagonist; although this time one wonders whether the lady doth protest too much. Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio takes the woman-meets-alien model underwater as Dr Lindsey Brigman, a mining rig designer. She also follows Ripley's technical role, not a common occurrence in the genre. When female scientists started to emerge in the 1950s, they tended to specialise in what has been described as the 'soft sciences': disciplines taking animals, plants or people as subjects. These references to Mother Nature take the form of psychologists (Invaders from Mars), psychiatrists (The Invasion), anthropologists (Memoirs of an Invisible Man), palaeontologists (Jurassic Park), archaeologists (Stargate), and marine-biologists (2010). The trend has continued into the 21st century with Jennifer Connelly's astrobiologist in the remake of The Day the Earth Stood Still.

The Handmaid's Tale (Volker Schlöndorff, USA/Germany, 1990)
Everyone has their notion of what is and what is not science fiction. For some, King Kong is out - along with all the BEM (bug-eyed monster) films; others discount the 'future dystopia' story - unless it offers a specific scientific of technological concept (cf. The Island). There's no doubting that Margaret Atwood's harrowing tale - in a screenplay here from Harold Pinter - is effective social commentary; however, the preoccupations are religious and political, not scientific. In fact, despite the film's title and popularity with feminist critics and commentators, The Handmaid's Tale shares the blame for its atrocities between men and women. The dystopia is built more on class and wealth. See also P.D. James' Children of Men, filmed in 2006.

The Sticky Fingers of Time (Hilary Brougher, Spain, 1997)
With a growing gay following, this has been billed as a 'lesbian science fiction film' - but not by its writer/director, Brougher, who has approached the subject as a serious genre effort. The dubious title may not have helped her cause here, but titles aside, this is an entertaining film. Made on a low budget, but not quite the shoestring of Born In Flames, this film attempts many of the same things as Lizzie Borden's film. At its root is a kind of artistic, feminist guerrilla warfare, aimed squarely at male-dominated medium.[!!!]

Alien Resurrection (Jean-Pierre Jeunet, USA, 1997)
1997 was a vintage year for women in science fiction film. To top it all, Ripley was back in a film which represents a culmination of female development through the genre. Alien Resurrection marks the point at which the franchise became fully self-aware - smart enough to wink back at itself; strong enough to turn the genre on its head. The mothership computer has become 'father'; Ian Holm's android has become Winona Ryder's sympathetic gynoid, Call, with witty lines like: "I burned my modem, we all did"; and Ripley has become the alien's mother. Full circle. Some argue that the series has descended here to space opera, and in a way it has. It's only a matter of time before the aliens are loose onboard and then it's a game of 'spot the victim': the black, the white, the woman, the man, the gay, the disabled, the alien. Ripley has drawn enough strength from the last three films to reach a point where she can do whatever she wants: she is now the narrative, everything else is peripheral - even the alien. We don't question her gender, but we hardly recognise it either; the feminist dream has become an androgynous nightmare. When Call takes over the ship's computer and intones "Father's dead, asshole", she is only partly right. Father was dead for a while, but this film is a clarion call for his return. It's not modems that are being burned here; it's bridges.

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Star Wars: Clone Wars (Dave Filoni, USA, 2008)
When George Lucas came to make a sequel to Star Wars in the late 1970s, he was careful to respond to criticism that the original film had no black human faces. As a result, The Empire Strikes Back co-stars Billy Dee Williams as Lando Calrissian. Not a token black, but a good actor in a decent role. However, it took six films and another 30 years for the saga to respond to its lack of interesting female characters. And this is it: the insufferable trainee Jedi (Padawan) Ahsoka Tano, voiced by Ashley Eckstein. A token female. Animated (in more ways than one), disobedient and cute, Ahsoka is clearly designed as a mischievous reference point for a youth market. And perhaps that's all we should expect her to be. Perhaps we should stop looking for meaningful female roles in a saga which is essentially an extended Freudian Oedipal redemption tale about boys and their fathers.

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Star Trek (J.J. Abrams, USA/Germany, 2009)
In her biography, 'Beyond Uhura' Nichelle Nicholls complains about the ethos of the first Star Trek movie, The Motion Picture in 1979: "I really disliked the bland unisex approach, not simply because it was unattractive, but that it just wasn’t Uhura". Nicholls certainly got her way, eventually bringing her own brand of sexy, sassy strength to her role in the remaining films. Nicholls must surely then have been pleased with the casting of Zoë Saldana for this film: her beauty, talent and attitude (and skirts) doing justice to the famous character in J.J. Abrams updated prequel to the classic series. But what a missed opportunity. All the men - even Sulu - get to be a heroes in this movie; Uhura gets to be... Spock's girlfriend. In the circumstances, a disappointingly traditional take on an iconic role.

Looking back, the years between 1979 and 1997 seem to have been a 'golden age' for women in science fiction cinema. Not just because Ripley led the way with guns, guts and attitude, but because her success in this most 'male' of realms blurred the distinctions between masculine and feminine, opening more roles to women generally. The era promised so much, but eventually the forces of commercial cinema encroached again. The budgets got bigger, forcing risk-averse producers to retreat towards conservative representation. And not just for women. The plethora of 21st century science fiction remakes, sequels and prequels points to a fear of the new and a reluctance to take chances. 2010/11 promised some big science fiction events, but many of these still feel familiar. Roland Emmerich's 2012 is another Roland Emmerich disaster movie; in Predators, humans awake on the alien planet to discover that they have been abducted; and Pandorum tells the story of humans waking from cryo-sleep to find their spaceship infested with aliens. This last film comes complete with its own Ripley character. Of course, James Cameron's Avatar goes one better than Pandorum by starring Sigourney Weaver herself (not as Ripley) as an eco-scientist on the alien world of... Pandora.

Real Ripley watchers will have to wait for the Ridley Scott directed Alien prequel, slated for 2011, and hope there's a role for Weaver. Otherwise there's the rumoured Alien5(6?), in which Ripley travels to the aliens' planet for a final showdown. With further sequels and remakes in the pipeline (The Black Hole, Soylent Green, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Buck Rogers, When Worlds Collide, Tron [Legacy], Short Circuit, Logan's Run, Dune, and Westworld), the industry still seems to be looking backwards. Even the slated versions of Lem's The Futurological Congress and Asimov's Foundation have an 'old sci-fi' feel to them.

Women have obviously come on a long journey since 1902 and Le Voyage dans la Lune, but at the moment even the glories of 1979-1997 seem light years away.