Twiggy review: effervescent portrait of one of the world’s most famous faces

Dame Lesley Lawson née Hornby was 16 when the whirlwind descended on her working-class corner of northwest London, announcing her as the face of ‘66 under the nickname by which the world knows her best, Twiggy. In Sadie Frost’s effervescent documentary of the same name, she shines bright.

Directed by model-turned-actor-turned-businesswoman Sadie Frost (Quant), whose pathway has echoes of her subject’s, Twiggy is the first time that the woman some call the world’s first supermodel has shared her life in such intimate detail.  

The face of 1966

1966 was a remarkable time. Indira Gandhi became the first (and, so far, only) woman to serve as the prime minister of India. Harold Holt succeeded Robert Menzies as the Australian Prime Minister, though he’d be lost at sea by the end of the following year. It’s when our dollar was born, Moors murderers Ian Brady and Myra Hindley went on trial, Walt Disney died and The Beatles ended their final tour. 

Twiggy was a dedicated mod, already sporting the exaggerated eyelashes that I’d always assumed inspired makeup artist Barbara Daly’s perturbing look for Malcolm McDowell’s villain, Alex, in Stanley Kubrick’s Clockwork Orange. Sadly, my research suggests this is not the case.

But it was cutting her trademark bob, which Twiggy initially resisted, that solidified the look, catapulting her onto the front pages of fashion magazines and into homes the world over via television.

Back then, she was shepherded by her first boyfriend, Nigel Davies, who assumed the pseudonym Justin de Villeneuve as her makeshift manager, fending off leery photographers. But as her star ascended, as is so often the case, de Villeneuve became cantankerously possessive and was eventually dropped by Twiggy

Poor philosophy

Twiggy went on to marry American film star Michael Witney, best known for his role in the 1971 western Doc, starring opposite Stacy Keach and Faye Dunaway.

Their short-lived union leads to some of the most moving stuff in the documentary, as Twiggy speaks openly about his struggle with alcoholism, their separation, his early death and the impact that had on their daughter Carly.

The latter makes a brief but welcome appearance with a particularly adorkable story about her Popeye obsession, bearing out reports of increased spinach consumption amongst kids of a certain age.

The documentary’s most eye-popping moment goes back to 1967, when then-emerging filmmaker Woody Allen was inexplicably tasked with interviewing the hot property model.

Already demonstrating an insufferably smug approach to women, it’s excruciating to watch as the then 30-something tries to humiliate her, asking the teenager who her favourite philosophers are. It’s a cheap stunt that’s all the more odious, given the memory clearly still upsets Twiggy. But stick with the scene, because her simple but savage clapback is one for the ages.

Right from the start, Twiggy knew how to handle herself. It’s gorgeous to see just how contented she is with her second husband, actor Leigh Lawson. As they sit side-by-side, clearly besotted, they reveal the secret to their enduring relationship: whoever got the best gig, the other and the kids went along with them. Family is their first priority and it shows.

Watch the Twiggy trailer

Twiggy is a starry, starry delight

Stacked with mates, some of the loveliest stuff in Twiggy comes from fellow traveller in the modelling world and Absolutely Fabulous icon, Joanna Lumley, who backs up Twiggy’s belief that her humble if happy beginnings kept her grounded. As does fashion goddess Stella McCartney.

Yes, Frost’s documentary is pretty starry, with the well-deployed talking heads including Stella’s reasonably famous parents Paul and Linda, as well as Sienna Miller, Brooke Shields, Zandra Rhodes, Erin O’Connor, Lulu, former British Vogue Editor-in-Chief Edward Enninful and more.

But unlike some of the randos who often show up on similarly venerating docos, they all feel well-deserving of a slot, layering understanding into the various facets of Twiggy’s many lives.

Indeed, modelling was but a fleeting moment. While Twiggy still dips into that world, Frost’s rollicking ride outlines a shapeshifting career that has also encompassed the roles of singer, dancer, Golden Globe-winning movie star, Tony-nominated stage actor, variety show and podcast host, and fashion designer, rather than wearer.

Along the way, she’s hung out with David Bowie, been championed by The Devils filmmaker Ken Russell, performed in Albert Hall and on Broadway, sung with Bing Crosby and hung with The Nanny star Fran Drescher and fellow mononym Cher. But the catalogue of awesome never feels like boasting.

Of course, Frost can’t cover everything but what’s here sprints along at a zippy but informative pace and it’s deftly stitched together with the help of editors Kristina Hetherington and the Australian Liz Deegan.

Mara Carlyle’s kaleidoscopic score helps signal shifting eras, while animator Emilia Wharfe works magic where there are gaps in the timeline, though the archival footage is abundant. The animated spells include reimagining a lovely McCartney family breakfast set to an acoustic rendition of Blackbird.

You’d have to have a hard heart not to fall for Twiggy’s bubbly generosity as she shares insights into a multi-hyphenate career that still has wings.

Twiggy screens at select cinemas from 4 December.

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