Yvain Dans Pas Courageux - Le Boui-boui, Lyon

Yvain brings pas courageux to our stage

At Le Boui-Boui, we love nights when a performer turns everyday jitters into laughter, and that is exactly what Yvain does with pas courageux. From the moment the lights dip in our intimate room in Lyon, he leans into the contradictions of modern bravery—how we puff our chests online and fold in the checkout line—and the audience immediately recognizes themselves in his stories. His timing is crisp, his writing precise without ever losing warmth, and the tone is deliciously self-deprecating. We programmed this show because it thrives in a close-quarters setting like ours: the sideways glances, the quick callbacks, the tiny beats between punchlines all land better when you can practically feel the grin forming before he speaks. If you’ve followed the young wave of French stand-up that blossoms in clubs and independent rooms, you’ll feel right at home here; Yvain’s energy is quick on its feet, conversational, and wired for the kind of spontaneous exchanges our regulars relish.

Inside the heartbeat of a new hour at Le Boui-Boui

What makes pas courageux so satisfying in our space is the way Yvain builds it like a living conversation. He circles themes of hesitation, peer pressure, and the acrobatics of self-justification, then snaps them into crystalline bits that feel custom-made for a small theatre. Expect playful segments with cheeky labels—think “Le Héros du Canapé,” “Mode Avion Social,” or “Plan B devenu Plan A”—that he uses as springboards to talk about loyalty cards, fitness apps, and the unstoppable avalanche of messages that arrive the minute you dare to silence your phone. As a house that champions fresh writing, we’ve watched him sharpen these beats set after set, never shying away from silence when it helps the punchline bloom. The comedy ecosystem that inspires our programming—Jamel Comedy Club on TV, Montreux Comedy’s digital showcases, Paname Comedy Club and Le Fridge Comedy Room on the club scene, or radio staples like Drôle de Chronique—has a common thread: honest observation delivered with craft. Yvain slots into that lineage while keeping his voice unmistakably his own.

From our vantage point in the room, the pleasure of pas courageux is seeing confidence form in real time. Yvain will tease a confession, double back with a sly grin, and then explode the idea with a tag that ricochets across the rows. Our audiences respond to this rhythm—the intimate confessional, the absurd tangent, the sudden pivot back to the theme—and it is especially effective between our brick walls, where laughter ripples and returns. He plays with audience expectations without ever making spectators the butt of the joke; instead, he invites quick exchanges that add a local flavor to each date in Lyon. The set is paced like a countdown: small anxieties snowball into set pieces, from “self-help whiplash” to “decision paralysis at the sandwich counter,” until the final stretch ties the hour together with foolproof callbacks. As a venue dedicated to stand-up’s live electricity, we’re proud to host an artist whose craft belongs up close, where every glance, pause, and muttered aside becomes part of the joke.