Vanessa Lépine - Amour, Bdsm Et Anxiété - Le Complexe, Lyon

Le Complexe - Salle du Bas welcomes Vanessa Lépine

At Le Complexe - Salle du Bas, we take pride in programming artists who turn intimate rooms into expansive experiences, and Vanessa Lépine does exactly that with Amour, BDSM et anxiété. Our basement stage is designed for confession, mischief, and precise timing, and her set thrives in this close-up format. The show dives into the push-and-pull of desire and fear, tracking how modern romance tangles with compulsive overthinking, and how humor can be the safeword that lets us breathe again. From the first minute, her conversational rhythm brings the audience into a circle of trust, then surprises it with quick left turns and razor-sharp callbacks. In Le Complexe - Salle du Bas, the laughter bounces back off brick and velvet; you see every eyebrow raise, hear each held breath before a punchline lands, and feel the relief when she flips anxiety into absurdity. Our role is to set the stage; hers is to turn it into a labyrinth of delight and disclosure, and Amour, BDSM et anxiété does so with boldness and grace.

Spotlight on the artist and her new hour

Vanessa Lépine arrives with momentum that suits the electricity of our room: a writer’s ear for detail, a performer’s appetite for risk, and the audience rapport of a seasoned host. In Amour, BDSM et anxiété, she builds a narrative backbone that lets her slip in crisp, self-contained bits—tight, surprising pieces she can lift and play with, yet which make sense inside the hour. Expect new material with distinctive hooks and titles you’ll remember on the way home, like “Safeword Semantics,” where she dismantles the language of intimacy with philological glee; “Panic Attack Etiquette,” a darkly playful guide to keeping composure while your brain sounds the alarm; “The Vanilla Myth,” which pokes at clichés around tenderness and appetite; and “Consent 101: The Group Chat,” where she rewrites romance as collaborative project management. What makes these segments sing in Le Complexe - Salle du Bas is the acoustic closeness: the mere shift of her posture, a whisper into the mic, the laugh that ripples from the front row to the back wall—our space amplifies her control of tempo, her vulnerability, and her late-breaking tags.

As a venue, we’ve watched comics reshape their hours in our basement: testing a risky premise, tuning a phrase, then finally launching the sequence that feels inevitable. Vanessa Lépine brings that same iterative craft to Amour, BDSM et anxiété, but with a dramaturg’s eye for structure. She scatters autobiographical fragments—first loves and false starts, diagnostic labels and private victories—and threads them with games of status, roleplay, and emotional misdirection, so each section lands both as a laugh and as a breadcrumb in a larger story. The staging is deliberately spare in Le Complexe - Salle du Bas, which puts focus on face, voice, and silence; it lets nuance carry weight when the subject matter heads into adult territory, and it gives her permission to toggle from tender confession to gleeful provocation without losing the room. Whether she’s riffing with the front row about first-date rituals, reenacting a disastrously earnest text exchange, or timing a pause so perfectly you can hear the ice clink in a glass, this is a set built for proximity. Our house lights dim, the basement hushes, and the room becomes a compact engine of laughter where Vanessa Lépine turns anxiety into rhythm and desire into punchlines—exactly what Le Complexe - Salle du Bas exists to showcase.