Queen Camel at the Concert Chamber, Auckland Town Hall

By BERNADETTE RAE

When choreographer Ann Dewey became a New Zealand citizen in 2001, she swore allegiance to what sounded to her, at the time, as "the Queen and all her hairs". A minor mispronunciation on a serious occasion.

But compared to the barrage of differences and dislocation that accompany the process of immigration, a hirsute promise is of minor importance. In Queen Camel, Dewey and her company of fine dancers explore the meaning of home and away in a kaleidoscope of kinetic, aural and frequently funny images.

It is a personal journey reflecting Dewey's English roots. Three female dancers are in schoolgirls' grey skirts and white blouses. There are early references to Celtic bagpipes and maypole dancing, brought to life through composer John Gibson's compelling dance score.

But nothing stays in one place for long, and exotic destinations and new customs materialise in rapid succession, illustrating the way we are all defined - and redefined - by place and custom, habit and association: that we make one another what we now are.

Dewey makes fine use of the split-level stage at the Concert Chamber, especially in the opening scene, when the Camel Queen rises to her full stature and distinct undulation amid yards of white veil. But the dancers also use it to full advantage to show their strength and bounce and even their ability to walk horizontally.

There are six fine dancers - Megan Adams, Lynne Keary, Elizabeth Kirk, Kelly Nash, Paora Taurima and Nicholas Watt - each with a highly individualistic style but melding into a balanced and compelling ensemble.

It is a continuing tragedy that groups that find such synergy and intelligent creativity are still forced to disband after a few weeks, the next project starting from scratch to reinvent the contemporary dance company wheel.