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Bit claustrophobic, but a natural extension of the trend of cocooning and then the Covid 19 pandemic. Well a supernatural extension or remodeling actually, reminding me a little of David Mitchell's "Slade House" or Mark Z. Danielewski's "House of Leaves" (which I need to return to and complete eventually.) Stories where insanity might not just be in our DNA, but in the actual framework of our homes.

Is there a theme in JG Ballard's work of a traumatic event then leading to a mental unraveling? And does this mirror his own life, the loss of his wife and yet he found an escape route through generating fiction. Exorcising his demons, binding them in font on page? Just an idea...

He does pop up as a doppelganger in certain works if I understand correctly, and Gerald Ballantine here, in a cozy neighborhood not sure if it is Shepperton, might be another. There's a funny line about American cheese (and some even more unsavory items on the menu) so don't watch this over a pizza or anything

I watched it online via youchube (British version of the American?). I came across it while looking for some interviews of JG Ballard, one of which included him recounting with certain pleasure visitors dumbstruck in disbelief upon arriving at his suburban dwelling, with a big lovable dog, three happy children and a fat tabby. Back on the doppel-chain-ganging, color me a bit curious how often a missing tooth appears (or notably does not appear I suppose) in his stories.

Anyways I imagine those visitors did not dare venture up into the attic.

One other art-to-art connection, perhaps fire up Tom Wait's "What's He Building" at your next neighborhood watch meeting before you show this film.