A cold, grey, rainy Saturday afternoon is a perfect time to see a great documentary. (Oh, who am I kidding? If Atlanta’s weather had been sunny skies and seventy degrees, we would have been in the theater today.) So we barreled down Cheshire Bridge Road to Tara, battled for a parking space with all the folks coming to see an emaciated Matthew McConaughey’s latest movie (talk about Hunger Games), and settled in with our over-priced popcorn to watch America’s favorite cyclist destroy his own brand, reputation, and career.
After years of doping allegations and the drama of having won an extended battle with testicular cancer, Armstrong staged a storybook comeback — an attempt to win the Tour de France (again). Filmmaker Alex Gibney was in tow, hoping to create the definitive documentary of a legend reborn … but then Lance came in third … and, shortly thereafter, the Armstrong mythos (the cornerstone of a multi-million dollar empire of product endorsements and charities) fell apart.
The film’s difficult to watch. On the one hand, there’s this fit, sexy, charismatic survivor — the mythological Lance Armstrong — and, despite what we know, we find ourselves rooting for him. On the other, there’s this lying, vengeful, manipulative monster — a man determined to destroy anyone who dares to so much as question his (often outrageous) claims that his superhuman performance has no link to performance-enhancing drugs. Whether Gibney intended this film to inspire sympathy or loathing I cannot say — but I do know that the version of Armstrong presented here is so repellent, I shudder to think I ever donned a yellow Livestrong bracelet.
Despite having finally come clean in a high-profile chat with Oprah (the Mother Confessor of many a tarnished celebrity), there isn’t much here in the way of repentance. By the end of the movie, we aren’t sure Armstrong is sorry he cheated … but there’s no question he’s sorry he got caught.
Photo Credit: Photo by Elizabeth Kreutz – © 2013 – Sony Pictures Classics
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