The Program

There are your rise-and-fall stories, and then there’s the true-life saga of Lance Armstrong, the disgraced Texas cyclist who went from being an inspirational icon for perseverance to a poster boy for cheating in the span of less than a decade.

With plenty of rich source material from which to draw, The Program is a disappointment that never pushes its narrative pedals with much conviction.

The film speeds through the rise to fame of Armstrong (Ben Foster), which included overcoming testicular cancer, winning seven consecutive Tour de France races, and launching his own foundation. He was regarded as a hero and brought unprecedented popularity to the sport.

It’s that same reverence that caused skepticism when Irish journalist David Walsh (Chris O’Dowd) uncovers links between Armstrong and a scandal involving performance-enhancing drugs. The resulting investigation consumes the bulk of the running time, as his downfall is accelerated by his own refusal to come clean. Armstrong turns into an egomaniac overrun with power and influence.

Foster’s committed portrayal reportedly included taking performance-enhancing drugs of his own to prepare, and his physical resemblance to Armstrong is almost eerie.

However, the oversimplified screenplay by John Hodge (Trainspotting) — based on Walsh’s book — tends to hit the highlights without providing much depth. It assumes you already know the basics, which is probably true for most viewers, yet the potentially insightful subplots are thin — from an exploration of the Mennonite upbringing of conflicted Armstrong teammate Floyd Landis (Jesse Plemons) to the travails of duped Armstrong investor Bob Hamman (Dustin Hoffman).

You don’t need to be a cycling aficionado to know most of this already. The Program is best in its character-driven moments, but only occasionally does the film hint at Armstrong’s inner struggle. It certainly doesn’t portray him as a hero, but rather a master manipulator (a sequence in which he rehearses his denial in front of a mirror is a chilling example).

The film certainly wont be endorsed by global cycling officials who are implicated as much as anyone for becoming caught up in the Armstrong phenomenon — which was detailed with more texture in a recent Alex Gibney documentary — and who might have used his downfall as a method of covering up more widespread drug abuse.

Although venerable British director Stephen Frears (The Queen) includes some stylish touches, the film staggers to the finish line with a cinematic flat tire.

Rated R, 103 minutes.