Yvain Dans Pas Courageux - Le Boui-boui, Lyon

Yvain at Le Boui-Boui: the pulse of Pas Courageux

From our stage at Le Boui-Boui, we’ve watched Yvain turn the intimate scale of our room into a creative superpower, and nowhere is that more evident than in Pas Courageux. Our venue thrives on proximity—whispers, glances, and split-second reactions carry all the way to the back—and Yvain uses that closeness to build a constant, playful tension between confession and punchline. He leans into the theme of everyday hesitation, mining the little alibis we all build for ourselves, and he does it with a pacing that feels tailor-made for a space where you can hear the audience breathe. The show lives on contrasts: a gentle, almost bashful setup that flips suddenly into a fearless observation; an anecdote that appears fragile, only to become a rallying cry for collective laughter. We see him calibrate timing to the millisecond, ride the room’s energy, and then break the fourth wall with a grin when a spontaneous exchange becomes the night’s best tag. Pas Courageux is a candid, precise, and surprisingly warm portrait of modern nerves, sculpted in real time in front of our Lyon crowd.

Within Pas Courageux, Yvain is steadily shaping a constellation of identifiable bits that our regulars now ask about by name. Anchors of the set include sketches like Le Mode Avion Social, a nimble piece about self-preservation disguised as courtesy, and Héros du Canapé, where he turns the harmless comforts of home into a full-blown epic of non-action. He juxtaposes these with Cours de Courage 101, a playful “lesson plan” that breaks down bravery into hilariously negotiable steps, and Le Jour où j’ai failli faire du sport, whose punchlines escalate from a simple warm-up to an odyssey of excuses. When the pace picks up, he slips into Accusé, levez-vous (mes peurs), a courtroom-of-the-mind routine that lets him cross-examine his own anxieties with a straight face and a twinkle in the eye. On some nights, we’ve seen him weave in Maintenance des Alibis, a quick-change carousel of mini-scenes where each pretext is funnier—and flimsier—than the last. The beats change order, the tags evolve, and the pauses shorten as he senses the crowd’s rhythm; in our room, those adjustments are magnified, making the craft of the show visible without ever breaking the spell.

Fresh pages from a working comedian

As a venue that hosts him regularly, we’ve had a front-row seat to Yvain’s current artistic momentum. He is in a building phase that suits Le Boui-Boui perfectly: new lines land one week as tentative whispers and return the next as fully formed laugh-magnets. The spine of Pas Courageux remains solid, but the surface is refreshingly alive, with callbacks that snake through the hour and fresh detours that reward returning audiences. We’ve noticed how the recurring sketches—Le Mode Avion Social, Héros du Canapé, Cours de Courage 101, and Le Jour où j’ai failli faire du sport—serve as anchor points for experimentation; some evenings, a single look or off-hand audience interaction births a new tag that suddenly becomes part of the show’s architecture. Yvain’s present-tense artistry is all about refinement: tightening transitions, testing alternate punch priorities, and letting crowd work breathe just long enough to feel personal without losing narrative focus. That approach gives Pas Courageux a living quality: you’re not only watching a comedian perform; you’re watching a piece of comedy grow muscles in the wild. For us at Le Boui-Boui, this is the most exciting place to host an artist—mid-creation, resilient, and inventing in public—so that each performance sits squarely in the now while pointing toward what Yvain will carry to bigger stages tomorrow.