HAS In the end, only one will remain. Since October 15, the “Star Academy”, a mixture of “The Voice” and “Koh Lanta”, is back on TF1 after fourteen years of absence. Betting on the principle that the best stews are made in old pots, the concept is therefore taken literally: young apprentice singers locked up in the mythical castle of Dammarie-lès-Lys (renovated for the occasion ), in Seine-et-Marne, to take lessons in dance, singing, theatre, sport and scenic expression and thus become accomplished artists, under the guidance of their director, Michael Goldman, son of Jean- Jacques. At stake, 100,000 euros and a contract with Sony Music.
The daily life is punctuated by lessons, debriefings of performances, and the preparation of evaluations at the end of which several of them will be nominated by the teachers, to then be subjected to the condemnation of the public. Every Saturday evening, viewers can thus follow the progress of the pupils on stage, alone or in duets with artists, in a prime time and live evening presented by the bouncy Nikos Aliagas, a sort of Michel Drucker of telecrochet. At the end of the show, the public saves a candidate, the students eliminate one of their own.
For the fans of the first hour, who saw the birth of Jenifer, Olivia Ruiz, Nolwenn Leroy or Gregory Lemarchal, sticking in 2022 in front of the “Star Ac” gives the impression of falling into a spatio-temporal fault, at a time when social networks, global warming, viruses, attacks, the “start-up nation”, influencers and Cyril Hanouna (almost) did not exist. An audiovisual comforter, where the only debates revolve around “harmo”, “choré” and “tona”.
The only birdsong
The “live” broadcast on TF1 Max, where the students are filmed sixteen hours a day, contradicts the first rule of television in general and entertainment in particular, by inviting a form of silent meditation, generating an almost invigorating boredom. , in an ultra-connected, talkative media society, fueled by permanent clashes and sterile speeches. The image can remain blocked for several minutes on a view of the castle bathed in sunlight, disturbed only by the song of the birds, or on the reeds caressed by the wind which overhang a pond.
The multiple cuts of the live escape any logic; you never understand why such a conversation about the weather is suddenly interrupted
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