‘Twiggy’ Review: A Starry Docu-Celebration of an Icon’s Timeless Appeal

She is the era-defining face whose iconic twig-lashed look and dazzling rise from working-class roots to the world’s first supermodel revolutionised fashion in the Swinging 60s. Now, Sadie Frost celebrates the icon’s evolution beyond her heyday in Twiggy—a nostalgic yet forward-looking documentary that captures her enduring cultural force, but leaves some untapped potential with its reliance on a textbook approach. 

★★★☆☆

Once again, Sadie Frost steps back into the stylish heart of the 60s, shaping up her ongoing exploration of Swinging London’s most enduring fashion icons. With Quant (2021), she captured the visionary behind the revolutionary mini skirt and mod culture designs and now, Frost moves from designer to muse in Twiggy, turning her lens onto the era’s defining face. Where Mary Quant’s omission was felt, despite being alive at the time, her latest docu-celebration benefits from Twiggy’s full participation. Composed of well-curated archival footage, a star-studded roster of talking heads and animated segments, the film is an effervescent chronicle of her meteoric rise from working class obscurity to global stardom as a teenage supermodel, as well as the lesser-known chapters of her life and career that showcase her remarkable flair for reinvention. 

Before earning her mononymous fame as Twiggy, she was born Lesley Hornby in Neasden, North-West London, raised in a working-class household by her carpenter father and factory worker mother. The film revisits the serendipitous moment when, at just 16 and still a schoolgirl, fame found her at Leonard of Mayfair’s salon, where a daring cropped haircut soon became a photo session with photographer Barry Lategan. The captivating images—spotlighting her wide-eyed, fresh-faced, twig-lashed look—were spotted by Daily Express fashion editor, Deirdre McSharry. One full-page feature later, Hornby was crowned as “The Face of ’66”, and the world came calling. It was in this whirlwind moment that she adopted the moniker ‘Twiggy’, derived from her ‘stick-thin’ legs and her iconic, spiky ‘Twigs’ lashes, became the era’s visual signature.

By the time she burst onto the scene, swinging London style was in full force, with affordable, youth-driven clothing leading the way and the fashion industry already moving beyond its rarefied world of upper-class models with curvaceous and statuesque figures that ruled the 50s. Through a vivid blend of evocative archival footage and compelling testimonies from fellow faces of the 60s, Joanna Lumley and Pattie Boyd, the film thoroughly captures how Twiggy became the defining face of the wave of change. With her androgynous slim frame, pixie cut and cockney accent, Twiggy broke the mold as the first-working class supermodel and as Edward Enninful aptly puts it, she was “youthquake personified”—her rise embodying all the changing forces of British culture. 

Yet, for a film about a teenage star who rocketed to dizzying heights of fame amid the hedonistic, excessive culture of the late 60s, it paints Twiggy as largely removed from that scene. The real, troubling story that emerges here is her experiences with the misogynistic culture of the era, where she was constantly scrutinised and objectified on a public stage. Frost captures this profusely, sourcing a string of unsettling archive TV interviews where male interviewers relentlessly interrogate her about her weight, make pointed remarks about her flat chest, and suggest that her career might falter with weight gain. Another glaring example of this comes in the form of a 1967 interview with Woody Allen where he patronisingly grills 17-year-old Twiggy on her favourite philosophers which, through a modern lens, starkly reads as blatant bullying and misogyny.   

Moving from public scrutiny, the film also examines a more intimate side of her personal life that reads differently under a modern glare—her relationship with then boyfriend and manager, Justin De Villeneuve, whom she met when she was just 15 and he was 25. De Villeneuve, who does not appear in the film, took on a Svengali-like role in her life, creating an image of them as a package deal by appearing with her on all talk shows and exerting a looming presence at her photo shoots. While the film evidently portrays his domineering nature, it also presents a complex perspective on their dynamic. Twiggy candidly reflects that, although  “not politically correct”, it’s revealed how he acted as a gatekeeper whose presence shielded her from many of the more unsavoury realities of the business. 

These glimpses into her personal relationships are where the film proves most introspective, and as the film segues from her supermodel heyday in its latter half with her retirement, it takes a deeper look, exploring her separation from De Villeneuve to her first marriage to actor Michael Witney. This chapter unfolds with insight and poignancy, reflecting on Witney’s struggles with alcoholism and culminating with his tragic heart attack while in the presence of their daughter. 

However, the film’s broad-strokes charting of the invariably impressive yet oft-overlooked chapters of her career feels more like a rapid, uncritical sweep through all the standout moments where more revelatory insights would have been particularly beneficial. Though her many reinventions take center stage, kicking off with her Golden Globes-winning acting debut in Ken Russell’s The Boy Friend (1971) from there, it skims through her ventures into singing, a celebrated Broadway debut and hosting her own TV show. As the film moves into more recent times, the pace quickens, highlighting her present day household status through her collaborations with Marks and Spencers, but glossing over her stint as an America’s Next Top Model judge, despite it also having a role in introducing her cultural significance to a younger generation.  

The latter half of the film is also undercut by some puzzling stylistic choices and tonal inconsistencies, with the animation of certain moments feeling abrupt and disjointed. The standout example of this is a chilling anecdote where Twiggy recounts her visit to Phil Spector’s mansion, which left her horrified and fleeing in tears after Spector threatened her with a gun. Oddly, Frost opts for cartoon animation to depict this encounter, which given its unsettling nature and the film’s otherwise grounded tone, feels jarringly out of place within the broader narrative. 

And, while the interview selections offer a diverse and intriguing lineup of commentators, the film leans too heavily on an overcrowded ensemble to flesh out its narrative. The generational range of talking heads, from past contemporaries to later ‘It-girl’ successors like Brooke Shields and Sienna Miller, certainly speaks to Twiggy’s enduring influence, but many of the soundbites add little more beyond well-documented platitudes about how exciting the 60s were and predictable takes about the hardships of celebrity. Joanna Lumley, at least, provides a hilariously dry yet insightful highlight amid a largely repetitive chorus, but occasionally the film prioritises broad commentary over deeper exploration of Twiggy’s own personal musings.

But what the film does truly reveal is the heart of its subject’s enduring icon status: her extraordinary knack for reinvention and unwavering optimism. While it may falter with its brisk, uneven pacing, perhaps Frost’s direction is fitting for its subject as it succeeds in reflecting Twiggy’s own forward momentum—constantly forging ahead with a refusal to be defined by her heyday. Twiggy, now 75 and happily married to her second husband of over 30 years, Leigh Lawson, still radiates the same charming and sheer authenticity as when she first burst onto the scene, and this film’s evocative portrait profusely captures that timeless appeal.  

The Verdict

With well-curated archival footage and images (some Twiggy herself hadn’t even seen), Frost’s upbeat documentary delivers an enjoyable nostalgia-fest trip while refreshingly avoiding freezing its subject in time, amply celebrating her evolution beyond her heyday. Still, for such a captivating figure whose rise to fame is recognised for redefining cultural standards, and with a unique and singular life story that is anything but conventional, the film’s reliance on a largely textbook approach and an excess of talking heads, ultimately detracted from the storytelling rather than embellishing it. 

Words by Miatta Mbriwa

Twiggy is in UK and Irish cinemas from 7th March

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