Review: Patti Harrison

The hurricane that is Patti Harrison blows through Edinburgh once again, leaving a trail of depravity, body horror and uproarious laughter in her wake. The main beats and tropes of the American's performance are familiar: the supposedly tentative return to performing after an extended lay off; the stated intention to dispel bad vibes from the room and the pretentious contriving of a one-woman theatrical piece about growing up biracial. The bizarre sexual relationship with children's character Stuart Little and the endless digressions and distractions, forever delaying the performance of the theatrics. But it's the sick flair and Harrison's skill at manipulating the calms before the storms that's really impressive and sets her apart, even if it's the explosive, viscerally funny set-pieces that unleash their own tsunami of escalating laughter, culminating in a finale that piles degeneracy on violation on outrage – a gorgeously assembled, multimedia orgy of excess.

Entitled, self-obsessed and terrifying, not least when she's racing through the crowd, Harrison is a hugely charismatic monster that still conveys a twisted, vulnerable humanity, never less than fiercely compelling, tempting audience members into inciting her venomous responses. Too much is never enough with her.