Burman, 33, is a slender, good-looking brunette with long, arching, graceful fingers that he uses to adjust a cup of coffee on its saucer as he sits in the bar/lounge of a hip downtown New York hotel, answering questions for a parade of journalists. He smiles easily, if somewhat shyly, but carries himself with an earnestness that belies the wittiness of his films.
"We're kind of shy in my family," he explains through an interpreter when asked about his father's reaction to the new film, which centers even more than its predecessors on the father-son relationship. "We react with understatement to everything. But when my father saw the film at the Berlin festival, he seemed pleased."
Burman comes from a family full of lawyers, including his father. Like the father-and-son lawyers who are at the heart of "Family Law," he worked in his father's office, and he did go to law school briefly, but abandoned that career after less than a year.
"My family was very supportive of my career choice," he says. "After all, I was already earning a living from film."
One way he paid back his family's support is in the affectionate portrait of Perelman, Sr. (Arturo Goetz) in "Family Law," which he readily acknowledges was based largely on his father.
Does that mean that Hendler has been Burman's alter ego through the unofficial trilogy of films on which they have collaborated?
"It's hard to say," he says with a slight wince. "There are some things we have in common. But we don't share the same ego."
His next project, a comedy about an older married couple who are struggling with the "empty nest" syndrome, will take him away from the trilogy, but he readily acknowledges that he will probably come back to Hendler and to his own growth in a few years, "maybe five, maybe 10."
It's an actor-character-director relationship that echoes the odd triangulation of Francois Truffaut, Jean-Pierre Leaud and the fictional Antoine Doinel, the Truffaut-like protagonist of "The 400 Blows," "Stolen Kisses" and "Bed and Board" among others.
That comparison tickles Burman immensely.
"I like Truffaut very much," he says, beaming.
He is less sanguine about the frequent comparisons between his work and that of Woody Allen. "It certainly doesn't offend me," he says. "A dream of mine is to present Woody Allen with DVDs of my films. But it's not a fair comparison. We're very different filmmakers."
Certainly Burman's characters are much less conflicted about their Jewish identity. They wear it with a casualness that is, quite frankly, alien to Jewish-American film.
"I think my parents taught me to enjoy being Jewish," he says. "It's not just about following rules or singing songs. It's not as easy as just not eating ham. In the United States people seem to take a defensive attitude about being Jewish. For me it's so intimate that I don't need to express it all the time. It's not damaged by the banality of daily life."
Indeed, one might say that by its very nature, Jewish observance is defined by -- and defines -- daily life. Appropriately, that focus on daily life in all its ordinariness is a large part of Burman's films, and that points up another place where he parts company with Americans.
"It seems contradictory, but the banality of daily life makes the dramatic incidents invisible," he opines. "Life is not like it is in most American films, where something dramatic happens every few minutes. [In real life] the big existential themes express themselves in the everyday."
Burman says that his writing is an outgrowth of that condition.
"When I write I don't think about those things. It's reflected in the mirror of the characters." "Family Law" opens Friday, Dec. 22 at the Laemmle Music Hall 3 and Laemmle Town Center 5. Alys Willman-Navarro assisted in this article by translating during the interview.