Félix Le Braz - Flashback - Génération Vhs - Le Boui Boui Lyon

Félix Le Braz at Le Boui-Boui

At Le Boui-Boui, we love artists who can turn a small stage into a vivid time machine, and that is exactly what Félix Le Braz achieves with Flashback Generation VHS. Welcoming him to our intimate room in Lyon, we’re preparing the kind of close-up, high-energy encounter that our audience comes here for: sharp observational comedy, quick-fire characters, and the delicious thrill of recognition when a detail from the analog years hits home. This season, Félix arrives with newly honed material that he has been shaping in clubs and on the road, and our space is built for that kind of precision—tight sightlines, responsive acoustics, and a crowd so close he can ride every laugh, pause, and rewind. Fans who follow his recent online clips and stage experiments will recognize the way he’s expanded the core idea of the show, introducing fresh beats like “Mode Lecture/Enregistrement” and “La Cassette Récalcitrante,” where the ritual of setting a VCR timer becomes a miniature epic of triumphant failure. As a venue, we’re especially excited by how fiercely present he is with the audience; Félix plays to the room, not just in it, and Le Boui-Boui gives him the perfect sandbox for detours, callbacks, and that spontaneous riff that can only happen when a comedian and a crowd are less than an arm’s length apart.

Inside Flashback Generation VHS

Flashback Generation VHS is a love letter to the everyday magic of tape culture, and from our front row to the back corner table, we can already hear the collective gasp of memory when Félix evokes the blue screen of a hungry magnétoscope or the jitter of a stubborn tracking wheel. The show threads together storytelling, vocal sound design, and physical comedy, upgrading nostalgia from soft focus to full HD in the mind’s eye. He flips between household archetypes and Saturday night rituals, from the quest to find a Péritel cable that actually fits to the uncanny suspense of pressing Record at the exact moment the opening credits roll. In curated segments like “Retour au Vidéoclub,” “Péritel contre HDMI,” “Le Tracking qui danse,” and “Pause/Stop/Eject,” Félix mines the tactile poetry of an era: the static crackle before a home-movie birthday, the white-knuckle tension of a tape stuck halfway, the secret pride of a perfectly labeled spine in felt-tip pen. On our stage at Le Boui-Boui, those details land with a cinematic crispness—every whisper of a rewinding noise and every micro-expression reads instantly—while the room’s closeness keeps the show elastic and alive. Between playful audience prompts and sly asides, he reframes yesterday’s tech as today’s mirror, using the mechanics of VHS to talk about memory, family, and the way we curate ourselves in the digital present. The result is a set that feels both new and comfortingly familiar, the comedy equivalent of digging out a treasured cassette and discovering it still plays like a dream.