In Thin Ice, Kate Jackson Romances Her Student

Oh, the unexpected treasures that abound in Thin Ice, a strange little teacher-student romance that walked so A Night in Heaven (1983) could gyrate run. In this 1981 made-for-TV oddity you’ll look on, aghast, as Lillian Gish encourages her granddaughter, a high school teacher and Charlie’s Butchest Angel, to sleep with one of her students. You’ll stare in disbelief as a dead cat is placed on somebody’s doorstep, wearing a tiny bespoke noose. By the end, you’ll have no idea why anyone thought this was a good idea, but you may want to watch it again.

Kate Jackson stars as 26-year-old Linda Rivers, a popular history teacher. Widowed by her husband in an aviation accident, Linda’s been on only five dates in three years. Her live-in Gran (played by Gish) disapproves of this. When strapping senior Paul (Gerard Prendergast), one of Linda’s pupils, stops by to help plan a field trip, Gran hoots “We didn’t have students like that when I was teaching!”

On the trip, Linda realizes Paul is—wait for it—uncommonly sensitive and mature. “You know, it seems to me that you really know who you are,” she tells him. “That’s pretty rare for someone your age. It’s really pretty rare for someone my age!” They subsequently bond over spring break, going on sailing and horseback riding dates as their relationship turns sexual. The night before school resumes, Paul asks, “So, what are we going to do? It’s gonna be real hard calling you Mrs. Rivers again.”

Back at work, Linda’s friend, art teacher Arlene (Mimi Kennedy), mentions the rumors floating around town. She adds, somewhat bafflingly, “Linda, I think it’s terrific. Look, if I had tenure I’d probably be doing the same thing.” A recurring theme in Thin Ice is that cool, hip, forward-thinking people are fine with the relationship. Only fuddy-duddies think it’s inappropriate.

Paul’s mother, Mrs. McCormick (Louise Latham) is the scold-in-chief. “She is twice your age!” she yells at Paul. He replies that she’s three years older than his dad, which earns him a face-slap before this interesting exchange.

Paul: You make it sound disgusting, Mom! We happen to like each other.

Mrs. McCormick: She is your teacher.

Paul: Big deal! She’s a person, isn’t she? She happens to be my teacher, yes. She could just as easily be my doctor or my mailman.

Thin ice (1981)

Who wants to tell Paul you’re not supposed to have sex with your doctor, either?

Behaving as most sensible parents would, Mrs. McCormick announces her intention to report Linda to the school board. “Mom, you can’t do that, they’ll fire her!” Paul protests. “She’s the best teacher in the whole school. What’s going on between Linda and myself has nothing to do with her ability to teach school, or me in school.” He accuses her of starting a scandal but she’s firm: “I won’t be starting anything. I’ll be putting an end to it.”

Meanwhile, you could knock Linda over with a feather that her actions might have consequences. “I have never, in my life, corrupted the morals of another human being,” she tells the school board after being suspended. At home, she cries to that horny old toad, Gran, who comforts her while expressing outrage. “Fire you? Why? You’re the only one who can teach worth a damn in the whole place!”

When an otherwise defiant Linda finally expresses remorse, Gran tells her not to punish herself. “I haven’t done anybody any harm?” Linda tearfully asks. “No,” Gran reassures her. “I didn’t mean to fall in love,” Linda cries. Forty-one years later, in 2022, with another round of classroom-oriented gay bogeyman nonsense currently in the news, I can only scratch my head at all this special pleading for a teacher who should indeed be fired. “You fight ’em. You fight ’em and you whip ’em,” Gran tells her.

In the teachers’ lounge, a colleague muses, “We must stay in control of our feelings at all times for students. But events are not always within our control. Sometimes, Mrs. Archer, life creeps up on us in mysterious ways.” Again and again, it’s implied that Linda had curiously little control over her actions. Not only could she not have prevented her genitals from consorting with Paul’s, we’re advised she deserves a settlement from the school for treating her unfairly!

Seen through a modern lens, this is all completely appalling. It’s particularly gross that we’re supposed to find it sweet since Paul’s mature and Linda’s a lonely widow. Of course, I’ll note here that my parents graduated from high school not long before this movie was made, and one of them had a classmate who married a much-older teacher. “Made reunions awkward,” my mother later remarked, but he didn’t lose his job.

As wildly unsympathetic as I found Jackson’s character, she and Prendergast gave adequate performances in a film that is elevated by its vibrant supporting cast. Daniel Hugh Kelly makes an impression as Paul’s older brother Jack, who is mired in depression after losing a leg. Louise Latham, so legendary in Marnie, stands out as one of the only adult characters who behaves like one. And Lillian Gish, of course, makes misguided spitfire Gran a welcome presence.

Incidentally, this isn’t the only controversial romance to have been directed by Paul Aaron. He was also responsible for the maligned A Different Story, about a gay man and a lesbian who fall in love with each other.

Streaming and DVD availability

Thin Ice has never been released on DVD and isn’t currently on any legitimate streaming platforms, but you can find it on YouTube. Jackson aficionados should also check out our reviews of Inmates: A Love Story (1981) and Killer Bees (1974) for more viewing suggestions. Some of her other films stream for free (with ads) on Amazon.

^{Disclosure: As an Amazon Associate I earn a small commission from qualifying purchases.}

… But wait, there’s more!

In 1982, Jackson starred in the groundbreaking gay film Making Love opposite Michael Ontkean and Harry Hamlin. She was offered the role of Ontkean’s jilted wife on the basis of her performance in Thin Ice. While searching for Jackson interviews that might have mentioned the connection, I was distracted by two very particular things from a brief appearance she made on Bobbie Wygant’s show.

It’s a good interview, first of all, and Wygant’s leading question (about whether Jackson had to tweak any of her character’s reactions that the male filmmakers might have gotten wrong) was a smart one. But I was immediately struck by something that’s hard to put into words, but that most lesbians—and more than a few gay male viewers—might pick up on.

This, right here, in the seconds leading up to the start of the interview. Sung to the tune of the “fabric of our lives” jingle, one might venture: “The sweater, the posture of gayness, the lezzes of our lives.” It was a welcome split-second flash of a different type of BDE, if you catch my drift. Moving on to the main attraction, we have a more entertaining exchange, though it’s Jackson’s expression, not her lips, that do the talking.

“Many, many people in our country have experienced divorce, and the pain of divorce,” Wygant begins. It’s when she gets to “You yourself have gone through that with Andrew Stevens” that Jackson has an almost imperceptibly disgruntled look on her face that’s swiftly suppressed with a smile and a sip of water. There’s nothing more to the moment than that; it doesn’t derail the interview. I’m just leaving it here in case anyone else might enjoy it as I did.