Charlotte Cardin, godmother of Star Ac 2025, visited the château des Vives-Eaux, an emblematic location of Star Academy France, in Dammarie-les-Lys for two mornings of Star Academy evaluations on October 27 and 28, 2025. As a godmother, she was not to applaud, observing and giving discreet signs, offering the students just the right amount of distance. After the Star Academy prime on October 25 and Mehdi’s elimination from Star Academy 2025, the musician set the tone: calm demand, transmission before the grade.
Dawn at the château des Vives-Eaux
In Dammarie-les-Lys, the day broke over the light bricks of the château des Vives-Eaux, a residence turned into the set of a French talent show. On the morning of October 27, 2025, a black silhouette crossed the threshold. She smiled, greeted, and was amazed by the energy already vibrating in the corridors. Charlotte Cardin, godmother of Star Ac 2025 of Star Academy, immersed herself in the daily life of the students who were rehearsing in hushed tones. Eyes clung to this face whose gentleness masks a quiet demand. She expressed her happiness to be there, her eagerness to hear them, then made a remark that sparked laughter, as if to break the solemnity of the moment: "I saw your schedule, I was exhausted just reading it."
The setting is no longer mysterious to the viewer. Evaluations take place there, unchanging in their setup: each one enters, sings by heart, without text, seeking the accuracy and truth of a moment. On October 25, during the Star Academy prime on TF1 and TF1+, Mehdi left the adventure. On Monday, October 27, and then Tuesday, October 28, the class presented themselves in two groups before the teachers. This week, she added a velvet silence to the room. The Canadian does not grade, warned Michael Goldman, the director, who accompanies her with a watchful eye. She brings something else: precise listening and a discreet anchoring in a playlist of Charlotte Cardin’s songs that seems very thoughtfully curated.
Between two doors, she promised a shared lunch. Faces lit up. The day could begin.
Cardin intimate, the art of moving quietly
Those who follow her know she cultivates a stage modesty that does not exclude either passion or confession. We remember Phoenix, her first full-length album released in 2021, then 99 Nights, in 2023, a nocturnal journey with pop beats rewarded at the Juno Awards and distinguished by a nomination for the Polaris Music Prize. Born in Montreal, having passed through La Voix in Quebec, Charlotte Cardin has honed a bilingual writing style, melodies that settle quietly and cling to the nerves. Her trajectory has been established less by noise than by consistency, as if each step had to verify the previous one.
In this training house where one learns to project, to breathe, to look straight ahead, her presence serves as a counterpoint. She moves without fanfare, listens at length, speaks little. In her songs, the intimate unfolds on a tightrope. At the château, the same economy. She stands back, her gaze steady, and one senses her fidelity as an artist. She has experienced rapid exposure but chose to tame its speed. She is not a spectacular fairy; she is every bit a godmother who protects without invading.
In the evaluation room, the rule and the "little signs"
The evaluation room has its dogmas and isolations. One enters alone. One breathes. One sings without support, by heart. One asserts a gesture, sometimes a nascent staging. One leaves. Outside, the air circulates differently. Inside, the rule prevails. Charlotte Cardin complies with this gentleness that does not exclude firmness. Particular instruction, almost childlike in its simplicity: the godmother does not applaud. She must not influence the jury. She admitted to being surprised at sending tiny signs, a smile, a breath, a sparkle in the eye. Nothing ostentatious. It’s the restrained momentum of a musician who knows the price of waiting. Indeed, she has just delivered a part of herself.
The scene is brief. A student finishes. Silence holds a second too long. She refrains from clapping. The acoustics swallow the last echo. Marlène Schaff, Papy, Jonathan Jenvrin, Sofia Morgavi speak, ask technical questions, outline corrections. Michael Goldman ensures the balance of the remarks. The godmother remains on the edge, attentive and sometimes amused. She is "so impressed," she will say, not to flatter. In reality, she acknowledges the effort at the moment when the voice still hesitates to believe what it has just dared.
We will remember Sarah on Stromae, with a tone strengthened by stage fright. Moreover, she carried a text like evidence. At other times, we will note the fragility of a vibrato, the grace of a step, the instinct of a breath. Each brings their fragment, each leaves with a tiny instruction that resembles a viaticum: relax the jaw, move the microphone back, open to the high notes without abandoning the low.
The collective momentum, effects of a presence that arranges
What does this presence change? First, the listening. The room arranges itself differently. The students know they are being watched by an artist who tours, records, exposes herself, makes mistakes, starts over. They understand that gentleness does not exclude either rigor or precision. The teachers, for their part, rely on this complementary gaze. One perceives in Marlène Schaff the concern to align emotion and breath, in Papy the demand for tempo, in Jonathan Jenvrin the frankness of the words, in Sofia Morgavi the musical clarity. The godmother does not decide, she composes.
In the corridors, informal exchanges have the happy simplicity of theater canteens. She promises a communal lunch. She questions one about their way of memorizing lyrics, asks another where fear resides. She remembers the cities crossed, the stages that shaped her, the patience of the studios. "I am here to hear you sing," she says, almost to herself. One feels that her presence installs a more accurate weather: an additional degree of demand and, at the same time, a sense of calm.
Television loves symbols. This one does not quite overstate. A godmother who does not applaud but encourages, who does not grade but enlightens, who does not impose but supports, is the exact counterpoint to pure competition. In a show where one ends up counting, ranking, and comparing, this delicately undertaken place stands out. Indeed, it reminds us that an artist is not just a simple sum of notes. It is rather a way of inhabiting the stage and offering the audience an immeasurable sharing.
The precedent of the stage and modesty as a compass
Charlotte Cardin’s journey naturally leads her to this role. We have seen her in France in sober duets, precise, facing emerging voices. She has retained from her beginnings a sense of internal tempo that cannot be copied. The songs that revealed her never quite succumb to the temptation of showiness. They advance, precise, drawing an emotional world with fine nuances. At the château, this quality is transmitted by osmosis. The steady voice and attention to words circulate better when someone in the room embodies the promise. Moreover, the way of receiving criticism and using it as leverage is also improved.
At the time of the debrief, the networks buzz. People judge, get excited, worry about the level, already become attached. Tact is needed when the show touches young artists, still in development. The godmother sets an example by reacting without harshness. Indeed, she prefers to recount what she perceived rather than distribute good points. The teachers follow this line: it is about guiding, giving muscle to intentions.
Projection, from trial to meeting
The prime of October 25 set the tone. Mehdi’s elimination from Star Academy 2025 tightened the group and sharpened the desire to do well. The evaluations of October 27 and 28 redrew the map of the current strengths. Now, everyone knows what the week demands: rehearse, align voices, adjust gazes. Duets with the godmother are already anticipated, to come later, when the season finds its cruising pace. Her announced tour takes her elsewhere, but television builds bridges. A rehearsal improvises, a visit extends, a verse is tried. Viewers of TF1 Star Academy watch for these interactions where the show meets the stage.
The production wanted the godmother to bring an artistic anchor without weighing on the course of the competition. The balance is seen in the precision of the rules. She does not influence the grades. She observes. She shares in a low voice. She inspires by ricochet. The rest belongs to the students and their teachers. It’s little and it’s a lot.
What the memory of the place retains
The setting is significant. The château des Vives-Eaux, in Dammarie-les-Lys, was not chosen for its charm alone. It offers a continuous stage, an inhabited school, stairs that, at night, still echo the day’s refrains. Living there means accepting being filmed at work. Learning there means understanding that a song is as much a mechanism as an impulse.
Charlotte Cardin’s music embraces this territory. It does not fear slowness. It allows for the unspoken. It leaves room for silences. The "little signs" she speaks of well express this gesture of accompaniment. In an era saturated with spectacular gestures, this subtle language holds the value of a manifesto. It restrains but does not hinder. It supports but does not imprison. It clarifies without overwhelming.
Guiding without grading
The godmother with restrained applause will have marked these evaluation mornings. Not by demonstration, but rather by an art of being there, exact and discreet, which reminds us what song demands: work, breath, a bit of danger, a lot of listening. At the château, everyone sang to convince her and to convince themselves. She held her place, frail and firm, casting a gaze on these emerging voices that does not grade but guides. In a competition where the hierarchy is written each week, the momentum that remains is perhaps this: to make the stage a place of transmission, and to offer those who watch, on TF1 or TF1+, a story where kindness is not a matter of ease but of discreet courage.