As the Great UVA Rape Hoax of 2014 makes it final round of the American Media Circuit, leftists everywhere are despairing:” I hope that my mistakes in reporting this story do not silence the voices of victims that need to be heard,” wrote Sabrina Erdely, who launched the hoax in her blockbuster article “A Rape on Campus.” As the hoaxes mount, American audiences turn ever more to “GamerGaters, 4channers, professional misogynists, and garden-variety rightwingers” for their news. The Narrative is becoming harder and harder to sell to American audiences, but this isn’t a problem for the globalist leftists who run America’s media because they can export their Narrative to Australian audiences, who abound in white guilt that is waiting to be tapped.

Whereas American Audiences received their Narrative through a 9000 word article brimming with masterful literary allusions to “broken glass” and Great Works , Australian Audiences received their Narrative through what can only be described as the McDonaldisation of the Narrative: “Redfern Now: The Telemovie” might not have been made by dumb people, but it was certainly made for dumb people. A cast of characters with no depth whatsoever, a formulaic plot, simplistic dialog, numerous factual errors and “fool-proof” allusions to fashionable left wing delusions– subtlety is asking too much of Redfern Now’s audience.

The elevation of this film to “[an] important 90 minutes of television” can only be explained by the “soft bigotry of low expectations,” affirmative action on the big screen. Businesses in Show Business are reluctant pander to the affirmative action crowd because it so perilously affects their bottom line. But when Show Business and the State merge into one big authoritarian Ministry of Truth, the bottom line can be ignored because the tax payer can always be relied upon to pay up.

The American media have been slowly exporting their Narrative across the pacific. Up until now, we in Australia have only received it in drips and drabs. A little feminism here, a little anti-racism there; finally we in Australia have a film that condenses every single left-wing delusion into one overarching Narrative.

The film opens to three young aboriginal girls out for a night of partying at Kings Cross. They are dressed scantily, as is their right to do so. It’s late, and these girls want to go home, so they hail a taxi. Almost every single taxi driver in Sydney is South East Asian, but that’s not true in the Narrative. In the Narrative, all taxi drivers are racist white men who refuse to drive aboriginal women home because Racism. Spurred on by this injustice, these three young aboriginal women resolve to walk home.

Redfern, their home, is depicted as an Aboriginal enclave, even though in reality Redfern is becoming less and less aboriginal as the effects of gentrification set it. Less than 300 aborigines call Redfern home today, down from 35,000 in the 1968. As they pass through Redfern, a man jumps out of the shadows to surprise them. But because this man is an aboriginal, he poses no threat to these women. In the Narrative, not all men are rapists; only white men are rapists.

One of the women makes it homes safely to her loving aboriginal husband, who doesn’t appear phased by the fact that his wife has spent a night at Kings Cross flirting with other men. In the Narrative, aboriginal men don’t care if their wives cheat on them. Domestic dysfunction only afflicts white families.

Our trio of women is now down to one. As she makes the final leg of her journey home, she is brutally raped by a white man. Had the writers opted for the more realistic route – the perpetrator of the rape being an aboriginal man – then audiences might have gotten the idea that aboriginal communities were afflicted by an epidemic of rape. In the Narrative, aboriginal communities are afflicted by white male rapists, not by aboriginal men who can’t control their drink or their sex drive.

The movie progresses from here in a lacklustre and predictable way.Eighty minutes of banal dialog and cringeworthy interactions between the cast’s depthless characters culminate in an “Atticus finch-style” court case. “Pretentious incompetence” is how I would sum it all up. This is a film that takes itself way too seriously. As an undergraduate media students’ first foray into filmmaking, it would be excusable; but as a $5 million dollar film produced by a professional film company funded by the Australian taxpayer, it is an embarrassment and a scandal.