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FENCES (B+) - The difficulty of translating a classic stage play to the big screen is mostly overcome here, thanks mainly to Denzel Washington, both behind the camera and in front of it.

Washington is blue-collar everyman Troy Maxson, a 53-year-old former Negro Leagues ballplayer raising his second family in Pittsburgh in 1957. The era is now twice removed from when August Wilson first presented his play at Yale in 1985, but that postwar world still resonates in the psyche, thanks in part to the recent popularity of "Mad Men."

Here, of course, we delve into the African-American experience and Wilson's historical take on the "Death of a Salesman" phenomenon of the fading father big-footing the American dreams of his offspring, while his loyal wife frets over his boorish behavior.

Troy is a garbage man by trade and a payday alcoholic who likes to bullshit with his best friend, Jim Bono (Stephen McKinley Henderson), while he haphazardly tends to the task of building a wooden fence in his backyard. Troy, an ex-con, is proud of his accomplishments in life -- taking Satchel Paige deep in the ballyard back in the day and holding down a job that supports his wife, Rose (Viola Davis), his high school football-star son Cory (Jovan Adepo), and even his grown first son from his first marriage, Lyons (Russell Hornsby), who is a jazz musician (code for drug addict), who is always asking to borrow ten bucks from Troy.

Then there is Troy's brother Gabriel (Mykelti Williamson), tetched in the head from a war wound, a walking cliche of the insightful madman with a heart of gold and the moral clarity of a child. The character of Gabriel (who carries around a horn and bleats about the kingdom of heaven, in case the reference to Troy's mortality isn't obvious enough) is responsible for shaving a half-point off of the grade for "Fences." The other half-point-off is for excessive baseball metaphors. (For example, Troy warning his son -- after a couple of previous cautions -- "You're living with a full count! Don't you strike out!") Wilson just tries too hard to bake his baseball knowledge (or research) into the script. (He adapted his play for the screen.) (Full disclosure: I wrote a paper on the sports references in "Death of a Salesman" for my English class on Sport and the Spirit of Play in American Fiction.)

Washington (who, along with Davis, won a Tony for his work in the 2010 Broadway revival) obviously has embarked on a labor of love here, and his restraint both in front of and behind the camera is remarkable. Troy has an opinion on everything, and his calculated outbursts are knockouts. Troy doesn't want his son pursuing professional football, because Troy knows how pro sports can break a man -- though Troy doesn't acknowledge the opportunities for black men in a post-Jackie Robinson world; he's still bitter about being too old to make it in the majors.

The humor here is rich. Troy is constantly harping on some backup outfielder batting .261 and riding the Pirates bench, when he insists, to this day, that he could hit .340 with his eyes closed. That paunch of Troy's (real or padded?) suggests otherwise. The banter between Troy and Bono crackles; Henderson truly goes toe-to-toe with Washington and even gets the better of the Hollywood legend here and there.

The tension between Troy and Cory doesn't always snap like it should, probably because Adepo, as a young actor, just hasn't developed the chops it takes to hold his own with Washington. Their clashes occasionally have a sitcom shallowness. At times, Washington shoulders the load all by himself. When Cory confronts Troy by asking him, "How come you ain't never liked me?", Troy erupts in condescension and disdain for the boy. It's an epic rant:

Like you? I go outta here every morning, I bust my butt 'cause I like you? You're about the biggest fool I ever saw. A man is supposed to take care of his family. You live in my house, feed your belly with my food, put your behind on my bed because you're my son. It's my duty to take care of you, I owe a responsibility to you, I ain't got to like you! Now, I gave everything I got to give you! I gave you your life! Me and your Mama worked out between us and liking your black ass wasn't part of the bargain! Now don't you go through life worrying about whether somebody like you or not! You best be makin' sure that they're doin' right by you! You understand what I'm sayin'?

Washington imbues Troy with plenty of angst and contradictions and an obvious dose of self-loathing. He is called out for grabbing the military/medical pension of Gabriel's while foisting his brother on a neighbor and paying her a paltry sum for Gabriel's rent. (Troy used the money to buy his house.) And, having two children from two different women, his weakness will lead to another (his third strike?), to the chagrin of Rose, who laments the breakdown of the nuclear family in black culture. It's Davis' finest moment, in a heartbreaking performance that beautifully emphasizes subtle gestures over emoting.

Washington, as a director, has a crisp visual style and an intimate way with all of the actors. He is handicapped, so to speak, with the Gabriel character, but he and Williamson do their best to avoid embarrassment and sappy sentiment. Washington has a keen eye for the era, and his ensemble cast nobly follows him into dramatic battle. At two-and-a-quarter hours, this powerful production never sags.

"Fences" is about barriers -- between fathers and sons, husbands and wives, and between man and God. Troy at times is a familiar blowhard who takes them all on, mostly with tired boasts and threats. At other times, he is emotionally stunted and quietly insecure, struggling to exert his manhood. He is the 20th century man, a fading star. It's a story that never gets old.