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

Felix Le Braz brings Flashback Generation VHS to Le Boui-Boui

At Le Boui-Boui, we love artists who transform our intimate stage into a living time machine, and that is precisely what Felix Le Braz achieves with Flashback Generation VHS. From the first beat of the walk-in music to the final callback, his set feels tailor-made for our room’s close-knit atmosphere, where a raised eyebrow or a whispered aside can ricochet through the audience. The show’s nostalgic engine—those unforgettable plastic cassettes, snowy screens, and ritual trips to the local video club—becomes a springboard for contemporary punchlines and razor-sharp crowd interactions. Felix plays with the analog-to-digital leap in a way that’s tactile and immediate: our tech team loves the way he turns a simple prop into a comedic accelerant, and our front row quickly learns that the “Pause/Play” of VHS can also be the “Stop/Go” of stand-up. In Lyon, where shared cultural memories fuel quick laughter, his riffs about rewinding, taping over family events, and making “mixtapes for crushes” spark a rich, communal nostalgia that feels right at home within our walls.

Artistic momentum, refreshed material, and sketch highlights

What excites us most, as a venue that champions evolving voices, is Felix’s current creative momentum. He arrives at Le Boui-Boui with a show that’s alive—updated tags, new transitions, and the kind of precise timing you only get from weeks of road-testing ideas in front of real audiences. Recently honed sketches such as “Be Kind, Rewind,” “Le Vidéoclub du Coin,” and “Camcorder Confessions” now snap into place with a fluidity that lets him push further into spontaneous crowd work without losing the spine of the hour. He has also slotted in fresh bits like “Tracking Error Tango” and “Pause/Play Generation,” which brilliantly weave the quirks of dated tech into a larger story about how we remember, curate, and sometimes misremember our lives. On our stage, these pieces pick up extra sparkle: the laugh bursts come fast, the call-and-response lands cleanly, and his analog props—a chunky VCR remote, a cassette case—turn into comedic instruments. Behind the scenes, we’ve watched Felix refine the order of these routines, stretch a pause here, tighten a tag there, and add a Lyon-flavored aside that lifts the room. This is a performer very much in the present tense, celebrating the past without getting stuck in it.

When Flashback Generation VHS unfurls in our black box, the experience is as immersive as it is precise. We keep the lights warm and the sound crisp so Felix can slip from character bits to razor-edged observations at the flick of a switch—one moment he’s a harried parent battling a home-recorded tape, the next he’s the clerk at a neighborhood video store whose recommendation algorithm is pure charisma. The show is structured like a home recording you never want to tape over: a cold open with instant rapport, middle chapters that stack callbacks, and a finale that splices humor with emotion. Expect references that speak to Lyon’s own pop-cultural memory as well as the broader 80s/90s canon, stitched into named routines like “Fast-Forward to Now” and “Mixtape Diplomacy.” Our space amplifies the show’s playful interactivity—Felix invites quick confessions from the crowd about their first camcorder, their family’s “forbidden tape,” or the legendary moment someone forgot to rewind before returning. From our vantage point, the beauty of this tour stop is watching him sync to the heartbeat of the room: the analog crackle becomes a living rhythm, and Lyon’s laughter becomes the soundtrack to a night that flickers like a favorite tape rediscovered—complete with the delightful imperfections that make it feel real and shared.