Instagram. I like it. You like it. We all like it. Kind of. It’s handily the most appealing part of the ever-expanding wet blowhole social media amalgamates itself into, the last vessel for personalised content against the tundra of artificial slop that has already drowned the likes of Twitter and TikTok. No one’s saying it’s perfect: nothing designed to be addictive ever is, but one of the reasons I warm to it above other platforms is its emphasis on creativity. Whilst AI certainly isn’t abnormal on reels, the platform still feels like it rewards and spotlights personalisation: style, wit, visual identity, careful curation. It’s this emphasis on creative authorship – on selling an idea through aesthetic and personality – that makes the platform such fertile ground for a wide range of content. And it is out of this creativity that one of Camdram’s biggest and most pressing features frequently emerges: the publicity campaign.

“I fear this kind of standardised practice threatens to constrain each show’s individuality”

Publicity campaigns are weird. By nature, they’re symptomatic of a wider cultural trend of relentless self-promotion, in which art, its participants and their private lives have all become commodified. A publicity campaign promises access, authenticity and excitement above all else, but in Cambridge, to put it mildly, I’m not convinced we’re very adventurous with them. Despite the opportunity for individuality each show carries, most tend to gravitate towards a standard procedure of just following everyone else. As far as I can see, the checklist seems to be: a few cheeky pics, maybe a preview piece and a cool poster drop. Maybe a historical context post for the STEM students. If we have time, we’ll do a few trendy videos when a rehearsal or get-in gets dull. It’s Cambridge’s biggest blessing and its biggest curse that there are so, so many shows, but I fear this kind of standardised practice threatens to constrain each show’s individuality. We are in a city that contains the busiest people in the world, but our only collective method of winning their money seems to be by making the loudest, most indistinguishable noise possible. How then should we get their attention?

aquickcamfab first appeared at the beginning of the academic year, posting a short reel with the promise of interviewing the people involved in artistic shows each week. Since then, they have been remarkably consistent, uploading charming discussions with one of the show’s two hosts (Freya Bielby & Elena Brown Moreno) and a few prominent members of a prod team or cast. It’s a wonderful experiment that actually lets people talk about what they’re making. And in doing so, it interconnects each show both to Cambridge and to each other, in a way reminiscent of a shared theatrical season, rather than a scatter of disconnected productions.

“The duo are able to ground each show’s online presence with clear, concise, and humorously presented answers”

Underneath the whimsy and charm of their co-hosts lies a dependable framework for publicity that has slowly found itself ebbing away. Three key questions are always answered: What is the show? What is it about? Where can we see it? By giving creatives the opportunity and the directive to speak on a free and available platform, the duo are able to ground each show’s online presence with clear, concise, and humorously presented answers to these questions.

What also helps is the pair’s dedication to highlighting every show’s respective gimmick: from covering themselves in goo, to throwing around a stick of dynamite, to twirling fish masks outside Corpus Playroom. My favourite video, and coincidentally one of their most viewed, features Footlight Improv duo Thomas Sweeney and Isaac Tompkinson mimicking the two interviewing them. I have to commend them both for knowing when to lean away from the comedy, however – Elena’s insightful interview with A Bright Room Called Day director Wilf Offord is among their best, and a true example of the show being willing to mould itself on a case by case basis.

Publicising anything is difficult, and in the grand scheme of things, it’s difficult to prioritise planning an Insta post when you’ve got to worry about whether a piece of set is going to crush an actor instead. I still don’t think any show within the last two years has beaten Penelope Quadrangle’s club night in terms of publicity concepts, nor matched the sheer variety and quality of reels from This Side of Life. But both of those were shows that knew exactly how to forge a unique identity for themselves online. aquickcamfab is so wonderful because it grants a lifeline to productions which are striving to do just that. My advice? Go give the show a follow, and hey! Go watch more Camdram this year! Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to feature in their next video…