“Joyful Noise” is cheerful testament to the theory that if you cast your movie right, nothing else much matters. A needlessly lengthy tale about various goings-on among well-meaning folk in a small-town Georgia church choir, it stars two of the most likable performers around: Queen Latifah and Dolly Parton. Both get to sing, quite nicely; both get to spout folksy platitudes (“There’s always free cheese in the mousetrap, but trust me, the mouse there ain’t happy”); both pretend to not like each other, but we know it’s all stuff and nonsense. In the end, everything’s smiles and song and good feeling; never mind that it was a bit slapdash getting there. The plot, which mainly fills holes between songs, involves Vi Rose (Latifah) being made head of the choir after the death of its longtime leader — who was the husband of G.G. (Parton), a wealthy local matron. G.G., who wants the position for herself so as to steer the choir in a more progressive direction, gets all irritable about this. Meanwhile, Vi Rose’s teen daughter Olivia (Keke Palmer) has eyes for G.G.’s supposedly-no-good grandson Randy, and the pastor (Courtney B. Vance) gets upset about how the choir never wins the National Joyful Noise Competition, and Vi Rose’s husband is AWOL from their marriage for reasons never made quite clear, and there’s a woman in the choir who keeps repeating everything that everybody says, just to make the movie longer. But there’s never any doubt among these good people that all will be worked out, despite a food-throwing fight between the sassy leading ladies at the local diner. Written and directed by Todd Graff (“Camp,” “Bandslam”), this messy movie has its own small pleasures: the lovely presence of Palmer (all grown up since her terrific preteen debut in “Akeelah and the Bee,” and singing beautifully); the sensitive handling of an autistic character; the music, a blend of pop and gospel, that can’t help but lift spirits. Even the shock of Parton’s scarily frozen face — thanks to some overenthusiastic cosmetic procedures that do her no favors in close-up — is leavened by the diva’s endearing ability to laugh at herself. Says she, “God didn’t make plastic surgeons so they could starve.” Moira Macdonald: 206-464-2725 or mmacdonald@seattletimes.com