For grown-ups living through the harrowing, cataclysmic events of the 1960s here in the United States, the walk on the moon must have meant much more. It was a sign that there were still some very remarkable things that we could do, do well, and celebrate together. Imagine the United States without Vietnam. That’s kind of what it is like watching the very funny, sweet Australian comedy The Dish. In Australia, the 60s seem kinder and gentler, but still with a great soundtrack.

The folks who populate The Dish, residents of the small town of Parkes in New South Wales, Australia, are very nice people who know each other well. Watching them live through their enormous claim to fame is very much like watching an episode of “The Andy Griffith Show,” set down under. Security guard Rudi’s overzealous need for procedures and code words is very Barney Fife. The film pokes fun at one and all, but also treats everyone with great affection and due respect and never resorts, as too many American comedies do, to dopey vulgarisms to get a laugh.

What is the claim to fame of these gentle folk? In 1969, Parkes was the home of the largest radio telescope in the southern hemisphere. The “dish,” an enormous and impressive structure which is beautifully photographed here to inspire awe, is chosen by NASA as the backup system to track Apollo 11 and broadcast the historic pictures of man’s first walk on the moon.

The Dish is based on the true story of the dish, which, as it did back in the day, still sits in the middle of a sheep paddock and is, in fact, the dish that brought the world the very famous moon walk. Exactly how these arguably peripheral events of the Apollo 11 mission played out may not sound terribly exciting or suspenseful, but The Dish gets you so involved with its characters that you can’t help cheering them on. One lesson of The Dish is that it reminds you that it takes many people working with tremendous diligence and dedication to make possible the great achievements of our species. This small but important story is given a rich resonance as it fits inside the big story.

Sam Neill, channeling a cardigan wearing, pipe smoking “My Three Sons”-era Fred MacMurray, is the chief engineer at the dish. He is ably assisted by a few conscientious, fairly shy nerdy guys who are not all that comfortable sharing their responsibilities with the colleague NASA has sent for the mission. Patrick Warburton, the actor who played Elaine’s boyfriend Putty on “Seinfeld,” is Al Burnett, the expert from NASA. He isn’t the big dope he was on “Seinfeld,” but he still has that large stolid presence, which is exaggerated by horn-rimmed glasses and a reserved, tense manner.

All these guys are tense. They do not want to screw this up, but mistakes happen, and they must pull together to make things come around right. When they momentarily lose power and must reconstruct their numbers, it was a shock to realize I was watching a pre-calculator, pre-computer world. These math heroes had a blackboard and a slide rule to get it right. There are all kinds of courage and fortitude. These guys have the particular “right stuff” when called on.

In town, people are excited and thrilled, but they aren’t worried. They have total confidence in their boys. They are quite a quirky collection of souls. Their bouts of nervousness revolve around all the visiting dignitaries the town will host for this historic event. Even the American ambassador comes in. He’s a good-natured sort, too, who has a good laugh when the local band misunderstands just which song is our national anthem.

The Dish was made by director Rob Sitch and the same writers and producers who made The Castle, an absolutely hilarious and absurd comedy that has been seen by very few people in the states. The Castle is much sillier than The Dish (and well worth renting). The tone of The Dish is less hysterical, because it should be.

These filmmakers understand their material well. They know when to play it for laughs and when to let the very real wonder of the moon walk take over. Footage and voiceover from the actual mission are cut into The Dish and allowed to play to a very great effect. The original soundtrack music by Edmond Choi is excellent — inspiring, not overbearing. There is as much genuine exhilaration and admiration here as in all the Tom Hanks’ narrated documentaries put together. In Parkes, the mayor’s son is a boy who has memorized every detail he can about the space program and stares transfixed at the television. I imagine Mr. Hanks was very much like that boy.

Movies that generate laughter and tears are all too rare. Rated PG-13, The Dish, is that happy cliche — the family feel good film for summer.