Peering over the edge of the Grand Canyon, it's impossible to resist taking a snapshot. Even amateurs know they'll look at the photos later, shake their heads and think, "it just isn't the same." But what happens when what you capture is even more monumental, more gorgeous, more pure, then perhaps even the original experience? What then?

Rob Moss describes himself in 1977 as "a passionate young filmmaker with the naïve belief that if you just look at the world closely enough with a camera, it will reveal itself to you." He made RIVERDOGS after years of living in a community of river guides, post-Berkeley, pre-family, in an extended adolescence. The film is a thirty-one minute evocation, or cave painting of sorts, that eschews interviews and simply records the life and sounds of naked youth floating down a river.

Of course things are never that simple. And as Moss and his riverdog companions soon learned, adult life comes creeping in. The shape of enacting that grown-up journey amongst people who lived by a code of "simplicity, rigor, and community" is what he hoped to capture in THE SAME RIVER TWICE.

THE SAME RIVER TWICE visits five characters in the original film twenty-five years later. Cutting between 16mm footage from 1978 and digi-Beta footage shot within the past five years, Moss's visual technique reflects the difference in then and now, both in terms of film technology and editing style as well as in the pace and content of the characters' teeming adult lives. He describes the contrast: "the film-past, for example, [is] rendered pastoral and lush, and the video-present crowded and utilitarian, the past imagistic and wordless, the present rushed and talky. Certainly these differences mirror my experience of being young then and over fifty now."

This is not to say that THE SAME RIVER TWICE charts what may seem to some as the inevitable corrosion of youthful idealism. On the contrary, THE SAME RIVER TWICE opens itself up to the uncomfortable stops and starts of adulthood complete with a kitchen that beeps, nukes, rings, and cries. One character loses an election, and one mourns a marriage, but in time comes healing and transformation. Cathy, looking at herself twenty years ago, admits, "I feel a little better about who I am now than I did then. I was more vulnerable then." Cathy serves as the mayor of her small town and in the course of the film falls in love and remarries.

THE SAME RIVER TWICE was selected to compete with fifteen other films in the documentary category at this year's Sundance Film Festival. It was Moss's first time at Sundance, and he sought and received ample coaching before the big event. "People were full of sports metaphors like 'drink a lot of water,' 'get plenty of sleep,' and 'pace yourself.' It was like I was about to enter an athletic contest only I didn't know what game I was playing." Moss hired a publicist, a producer's representative, and brought an associate producer with him to navigate the murky terrain of film sales and deal making.

"Most deals that happen at Sundance don't happen at Sundance," says Moss just a few days after returning. While his film did not win an award, he's already received dozens of emails from fans alerting him to media coverage in places like Milwaukee to distributors hoping to take a look. "You're so busy and so dizzy dealing with it all, it's very difficult to assess." Regardless, Moss agrees that Sundance gathers a concentrated group of people who have the ability to "take you and your work and put you in play in the world of independent film commerce."

Still, only a select few have the chance to enter that playing field. Moss readily acknowledges the difficulty of making a career in film, pointing to Fred Wiseman as the only nonfiction filmmaker who can make the films he wants and be paid for it. "Even Errol Morris makes commercials," he adds. Moss chose the route of higher education and has taught filmmaking at Harvard for the last fifteen years.

"The thing about independent filmmaking is that there is no way to do it," Moss shrugs. "Even going to graduate school does not guarantee work the way going to law school does. There is no equivalent in film. Being a PA, getting David Letterman his coffee - none of it leads you to where you want to go. You have to find your own way." Unfortunately, this is not news for aspiring directors.

Yet Moss points to the bright spots of making a career, particularly in nonfiction film, in New England. "I could not have made THE SAME RIVER TWICE without the support of Lyda Kuth and the LEF Foundation." In light of waning government support of arts and other foundations shutting their doors to film and video production, LEF's commitment to independent media is truly remarkable. Moss exclaims, "Lyda has put her foundation in the service of independent filmmaking --- wow." In addition, he adds that New England boasts a "world of nonfiction filmmakers" of which he is grateful to be a part.

So can one step in the same river twice? No. Moss gives the example that even in GROUNDHOG'S DAY Bill Murray does not step in the same river. "Each day is different. It's always changing. In his case, he figures something out." And in Moss's case? He looks out the window and says he doesn't know. Thank goodness the river does.

Learn more about THE SAME RIVER TWICE and Robb Moss at www.samerivertwice.com.