Robin Swicord made her feature directorial debut with “The Jane Austen Book Club,” which she also penned the screenplay for. Her other screenwriting credits include “Memoirs of a Geisha,” “Little Women,” “Matilda,” and “Practical Magic.” In 2009 Swicord received an Oscar nomination for her contribution to “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button,” a project she originated and worked on for more than a decade.

“Wakefield” will premiere at the 2016 Toronto International Film Festival on September 13.

W&H: Describe the film for us in your own words.

RS: A suburban commuter, Howard Wakefield (Bryan Cranston), arrives home from work late one night, but delays going inside to face his wife Diana (Jennifer Garner) and young teenage daughters. He’s in an odd state of mind, and finds himself following through on an bizarre impulse: He hides in the attic of his garage, camping there out of sight, watching his family deal with his unexplained absence.

He’s self-amused at first, but the longer he remains in hiding, spying on his loved ones, what began as a quasi-practical joke slowly morphs into something more profound. Howard realizes that he hasn’t left his family — he’s left himself. And having left himself, can he ever go home?

W&H: What drew you to this story?

RS: When I read E. L. Doctorow’s short story, I felt a hook go in, in a way that’s hard to describe. It’s the sensation you sometimes have when you’re in a room full of strangers, and you find yourself lightly scanning their faces. Unexpectedly your gaze connects with someone, a person you’ve never met. And for a fleeting instant you feel you already know them, and they know you — perhaps even that you’ve been waiting for them. But that sensation passes away, usually immediately.

With Doctorow’s short story, that sensation of instant connection and recognition didn’t leave me. It only increased as I read the story again. I knew that I would make a film based on it.

W&H: What do you want people to think about when they are leaving the theater?

RS: I’d love for people to find themselves crowded with a variety of competing thoughts, along the lines of, “Where will this story go from here?”; “What was going on, on her side of the story?”; “Could I ever forgive him?”; “Could I ever do what he did? And what do I think would happen if I did?”; “Could this man have changed as much, without doing something as drastic?”; and “What does it take to reclaim yourself? What has to be sacrificed?”

W&H: What was the biggest challenge in making the film?

RS: We had to make the film in 20 days. That was about 10 days fewer than we desperately needed. So we had to be clever and practical — in a hundred different ingenious ways — to make sure that the film didn’t suffer as we met that challenge.

I was truly blessed with Bryan Cranston and Jennifer Garner, who were so committed to our making the film, no matter what hardships we had forced on us. And I was incredibly fortunate that I had a crew that had an appetite to take on the impossible.

W&H: How did you get your film funded? Share some insights into how you got the film made.

RS: My producers Julie Lynn and Bonnie Curtis put the financing together independently, first showing my spec script to an international sales company to get estimates that would tell us what the value of the film might be in the marketplace, given the cast we had chosen. Then Julie and Bonnie pulled together a consortium of private investors, mostly Broadway angels, mostly from New York, who were experienced in taking risks on new work.

Film investors can be a brave bunch too, but as a rule, people tend to look for movies that feel like other movies. My editor Matt Maddox and I had an ongoing contest in the editing room, the two of us trying to think of even one other movie that was like “Wakefeld.” And we never could. Bonnie Curtis ventured “It’s a Wonderful Life,” though she pointed out that “Wakefield” is way more weird.

But interestingly, our Broadway angels stepped right up. I suppose when you’ve recently invested in a musical about the obscure political quarrels between America’s Founding Fathers — performed by a company of rappers — you’re not likely to flinch from a project as odd as “Wakefield”.

W&H: What does it mean for you to have your film play at TIFF?

RS: I’m thrilled to be back at TIFF. It’s where “The Jane Austen Book Club,” the first film that I wrote and directed, premiered. I found the TIFF audience to be incredibly respectful and supportive — in all of the screenings I attended, not just my own. They’re true movie lovers. And Toronto is one of the great cities — for culture, for food, for civic beauty, and of course, for people.

W&H: What’s the best and worst advice you’ve received?

RS: Worst directing advice ever (which I got from several people) when I directed my first feature: “You have to fire someone on the first day, so your crew will respect you.”

Best advice about directing, also from several people: “Buy a pair of really comfortable shoes.” When I was prepping “Wakefield,” Nancy Meyers even gave me the exact model number of the New Balance sneakers she wore while shooting “The Intern.”

W&H: What advice do you have for other female directors?

RS: Take “no” for an answer as rarely as possible. Gently persist.

Things have a strange way of shifting when you don’t give up.

I’ll also give you the opposite advice, because both policies have served me well. In some situations, especially degrading situations, it‘s sometimes best to just walk away. Don’t succeed “at any cost.” It won’t feel like success.

W&H: Name your favorite woman-directed film and why.

RS: For me, my favorite movie is a completely mutable concept, from year to year, and even moment to moment. I love cinema obsessively — I don’t think I know how to select only one film to be my favorite!

However, a movie that really inspired me last year was “Mustang,” directed by Deniz Gamze Ergüven, from a script by writer Alice Winocour and Ergüven, about a family of four adolescent sisters in Turkey. The girls come under the control of a repressive uncle, who forces them to live under his rule, obeying his cultural norms. It’s a film that for me lives side by side with “Little Women” and “The Makioka Sisters.”

Had “Mustang” been around when I was raising my two daughters, I would have had it playing on a loop in our house. The youngest sister of that Turkish family is such a little hero — the living example of what I would say to my daughters while they were growing up: “Know your own mind, and follow your own conscience.”

W&H: Have you seen opportunities for women filmmakers increase over the last year due to the increased attention paid to the issue?

RS: Yes — Hollywood is slowly rousing itself from its drugged sleep, and seems to be realizing a glaringly simple fact: It can only work to Hollywood’s advantage not to ignore a whole class of talented filmmakers.

W&H: If someone asked you what you thought needed to be done to get women more opportunities to direct, what would be your answer?

RS: Movies happen because artists invest time and passion, and financiers invest belief and cash. For more women to have opportunities to direct, more financiers will have to ally themselves with female directors. “I’m with her” should be a rallying cry in every arena where women have traditionally been overlooked and excluded.

I remember when Title 9 was passed, mandating that girls’ sports had to be given equal attention in schools, allowing girls an equal opportunity to take the playing field. The derision Title 9 met was intense, because it was generally believed among both men and women that girls weren’t really athletes, that girls didn’t want to play sports, and in fact weren’t capable. The attitude was that giving girls equal access to school athletics would merely deprive boys of their playing fields and coaches.

But we gently persisted. It took a generation and a half of that persistence for the shift to happen in a meaningful way. This year at the 2016 Summer Olympics, America’s female athletes distinguished themselves, not only winning more medals than the American men, but doing so with confidence and a well-earned sense of belonging in the sports arena, and on the winners’ podium.

We need a ‘Title 9” for the film business: What’s required is some concentrated, practical help in clearing these absurd obstacles to employment, so that we can finally do our work.