Nicole Croisille passed away in Paris on June 4, 2025, at the age of 88, after a long illness. This passing coincides with that of Philippe Labro, another major figure in French culture. However, Croisille’s artistic legacy, dazzling and multifaceted, deserves a singular tribute.
Her career is both discreet and flamboyant, tracing a parallel history of the French stage. Indeed, it reflects the evolutions of song, theater, and musical comedy in the 20th century. Her death has caused a strong emotion in the world of entertainment and beyond.
From Neuilly to Broadway: an early vocation
Born in Neuilly-sur-Seine on October 9, 1936, Nicole Croisille grew up in a cultured environment, immersed in music and international curiosity. Her father ran a travel agency, dreaming of great horizons for his daughter. Her mother, a pianist, passed on to her the love of melodies and artistic rigor.
Very early on, she was destined for the stage. She joined the Opéra de Paris as a classical dancer before joining the Comédie-Française at 17. But it was alongside mime Marcel Marceau, of whom she became a student and then a partner, that she developed a keen awareness of the body, silence, and stage presence. These early years of learning took her across Europe and to the United States.
The shock of jazz and the birth of a voice
In the 1950s, she sang in the cellars of Saint-Germain-des-Prés, a hotspot of Parisian jazz. It was there that she refined her musical sensitivity, mingling with musicians, poets, and avant-garde artists. She then crossed the Atlantic and briefly settled in Chicago and Denver. Moreover, she discovered the intensity of American jazz, far from sanitized standards.
At Broadway, she led the revue of the Folies Bergère, learning the rigor and flamboyance of the American show. This foundational stay gave her voice an inimitable warmth and dramatic accuracy that would become her trademark. In 1966, Claude Lelouch invited her to perform, with Francis Lai and Pierre Barouh, the soundtrack of A Man and a Woman. The "Dabadabada" became iconic. The world discovered a voice capable of restrained emotion and modest lyricism.
A singer with a thousand faces
Over the decades, Nicole Croisille alternated between orchestrated variety, realistic song, jazz, and film music. She recorded numerous titles for Claude Lelouch, including the unforgettable themes of Les uns et les autres or Itinerary of a Spoiled Child. In 1968, she delivered a rare performance in the film The Young Wolves under the pseudonym Tuesday Jackson, with the title I’ll Never Leave You.
In the 1970s, she achieved widespread popular success with Parlez-moi de lui, Téléphone-moi, or Une femme avec toi. These songs, supported by careful orchestrations and an expressive voice, established Croisille in the landscape of French song. She captivated a varied audience, sensitive to her sober interpretation, at the border of singing and acting.
A brilliant and committed theatrical career
From the 1980s, she returned to theater with the same intensity. She embodied Hello, Dolly! at the Théâtre du Châtelet in 1992, demonstrating a rare ease in the musical comedy genre. This was followed by Irma la douce, The Threepenny Opera, La Menteuse, and N’écoutez pas, mesdames ! in 2020.
Her stage performance, enriched by her years of dance and mime, captivated. Her voice, intact, impressed. Her energy overflowed from the stage, even at an advanced age. Offstage, she was committed. In 2018, she signed a manifesto for the environment alongside Juliette Binoche, affirming her attachment to ecological causes. She was also the patron of the Centre des arts vivants, where she passed on her passion to a new generation of performers.
A lucid end, an artist standing until the end
In 2023, she spoke openly about her illness and her desire to leave with dignity. Furthermore, "As soon as I am no longer autonomous, I will disappear quickly," she confided in an interview full of truth. This simple and courageous sentence resonates today as a testament.
Until the last moment, she worked on the release of a triple album. At 87, she still joked about her artistic longevity: "I haven’t finished infecting your ears." This lucidity tinged with humor sums up her relationship with art and life: straightforward, without pathos, but always with flair.
A shower of tributes for a discreet personality
Claude Lelouch, moved, declared: "Her voice was the breath of my films." Rachida Dati, Minister of Culture, praised "a life of stage, dance, and song." The media recalled her unique role in the history of French song, between stage intensity and discreet audacity.
On social networks, anonymous individuals and artists paid tribute to her. Many highlighted her elegance, generosity, and refusal to conform to stardom norms. She leaves behind a precious discography, memorable roles, and a profound artistic imprint.
Nicole Croisille lived and sang without compromise. Her passing marks the end of an era. But her breath, between jazz, cinema, and theater, continues to resonate in the collective memory.