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

Le Boui-Boui welcomes Felix Le Braz and Flashback Generation VHS

At Le Boui-Boui, we live for nights when a performer turns our intimate room into a time machine, and Felix Le Braz does exactly that with Flashback Generation VHS. From the first joke, the show spools out like a treasured cassette: the hiss of memory, the clunk of a VCR, the vivid color bars of childhood TV. In our cozy space, with the audience wrapped close to the stage, his rhythm feels electric—quick cuts, sudden pauses, zaps of nostalgia, and those warm, analog laughs that bounce off brick and velvet. Felix blends stand-up, character comedy, and audio-visual riffs with the nimbleness of someone switching channels at high speed, yet he never loses the human pulse of the evening. You don’t need to have grown up rewinding tapes to be swept along; he translates the VHS era into universal stories about family rituals, obsolete gadgets, and how our past selves get recorded—grainy, endearing, and embarrassingly honest—then replayed in front of everyone. We’re thrilled to host this finely tuned piece of stagecraft where the analog universe meets live comedy in the purest, most immediate way.

Felix Le Braz, now: fresh material, rewound memories

Our team has watched Felix hone a distinctly contemporary momentum around Flashback Generation VHS, adding new angles and punchlines that sharpen the show’s nostalgic spine without turning it into a museum exhibit. In recent months, he has been unveiling crisp, self-contained bits from this set during previews and club drop-ins—compact scenes that feel like short films playing inside a bigger feature. Audiences have latched onto recurring moments he frames as sketches, among them “Mode Lecture/Pause,” a stop-start memory lane that doubles as a playful love letter to awkward family recordings; “Rembobinage Express,” his whirlwind of pop culture flashbacks; “Le Club Vidéo,” where he inhabits the ultimate neighborhood clerk offering dubious recommendations; and the deadpan physical gag “Eject!” that lands with a perfectly timed, mechanical click. When he parodies late-night home-shopping in “Télé-Achat 3h07,” you can almost see the stripey tracking bar slide down the screen; when he conjures school tech rooms in “La Salle 102,” the audience supplies the squeak of plastic chairs and the dull glow of a CRT. These snapshots speak to an artist who is actively expanding his palette—testing cadences, tweaking transitions, and crafting the sound-and-light punctuation that makes the laughs snap into place. It’s current, it’s agile, and it’s made for a live room like ours.

Hosting Flashback Generation VHS at Le Boui-Boui means shaping an environment where Felix’s detail-rich timing can breathe. Our tight stage keeps the energy focused, while discreet cues—little bursts of vintage sound design, snatches of faux theme music, and those sly “rewind” whooshes—let him drift between characters and perspectives without breaking the spell. He often plays with audience memory, inviting a quick show of hands for first rentals, broken cassettes, or the ritual of fixing tracking with a tap on the box; in our room, that conversation feels like a living chorus, a shared mixtape of personal anecdotes. Expect the warm glint of a prop or two—a tape here, a remote there—deployed not as gimmicks but as punchline accelerators. Expect stories that cut from sitcom jingles to kitchen-table confessions, stitched together with a performer’s instinct for when to slow into a confessional close-up and when to smash-cut into a character burst. Above all, expect the Le Boui-Boui signature: generous proximity between artist and audience, where every aside, under-the-breath tag, and raised eyebrow lands with precision. For us, this is exactly the kind of show we love to champion—an original comic voice, a resonant theme, and a room designed to make nostalgia feel brand new.