Telluride Review: The River's Curve Longs for the Past and What Might Never Return

      The Bend in the River, the third part of director Robb Moss’ ongoing exploration of his friends’ lives (following The Same River Twice in 2003 and Riverdogs in the late ’70s), is a tender and impactful documentary that often feels like a reflection. It is deeply personal and revealing, yet accomplishes this with understated simplicity. To echo the brilliant tagline from the iconic 1968 film The Swimmer: When you view The Bend in the River, will you reflect on your own life? Over four decades ago, Moss documented a weeks-long river journey with a small group of young counterculture individuals, capturing their connections. More than twenty years later, he revisited five of those friends (Danny Silver, Jim Tickenor, Cathy Shaw, Jeff Golden, and Barry Wasserman) as they entered middle age. Jim remained committed to a nontraditional lifestyle but faced financial difficulties; Jeff and Cathy had experienced marriage and divorce between Riverdogs and The Same River Twice; Barry adapted to a suburban family life but was shaken by a cancer scare that he survived; and Danny was managing in New Mexico, though in a job she disliked.

      Now two additional decades have passed, and they have all aged. At one point, while cooking in his kitchen, Jeff asks Moss: “Didn’t we have a scene kind of like this twenty years ago?” The response is: yes, but also no. Their motivations have shifted. There is a poignant moment when Danny reflects on all the people who once inhabited her home (husband, children, pets) who are now gone: “It was a full house… and now it’s just me.” Jim appears worse for wear, and his unfinished home serves as a clear, striking metaphor for the latter part of Bend in the River. All five have become quieter and a bit slower, as is natural. However, when Moss and editor Jeff Malmberg juxtapose these contemporary images with scenes from the earlier films, the fragility of time becomes starkly evident.

      “We were 28, and now we’re 70,” one of them remarks later in the film. Even the river they are navigating with their young guide is diminished. Climate change has impacted the once-burbling waters. Danny suggests that their legacy should be more than “Bill Clinton and salad bars.” Perhaps so, perhaps not.

      The Bend in the River quietly draws you in. It initially feels modest and unassuming until it reveals something profoundly moving. The deliberate contrast between the carefree twenty-somethings, the stressed forty-somethings, and the resigned yet resilient seventy-somethings hits hard. There remains hope, but how much of it?

      Moss has a deep affection for these individuals––his camera conveys this clearly. There are unexpected successes and poignant failures that hint at possible futures. Most touching are the moments of the friends journeying down the river while singing. We see them singing in their youth, with the world before them and endless possibilities. Now their songs carry a sense of nostalgia, reminding them of a life well-lived, but perhaps not much more.

      The Bend in the River debuted at the 2025 Telluride Film Festival.