Let’s hear it for the big guy . . .

PLAYS about super-sized fat guys are few and far between. So this one, by U.S. writer Samuel D. Hunter, first seen off-Broadway in 2012, does stand out.

It’s about a college tutor guzzling himself into an early grave after the death of his boyfriend, who was rejected by his Mormon community.

What could be a fat-shaming, antireligious diatribe turns out to be tender and sophisticated, if a little long.

Ruth Gemmel is the nurse who fears Charlie will die thanks to blood pressure kept at 238/134 by donuts. KFC, and full-fat Coke. Then there’s Oscar Batterham, as a meek Mormon evangelist with a naughty past.

But the rock of this oddball play is the impressive Shuler Hensley, hobbling about in a fat suit.

He is fearlessly immersed in the part: writhing on the couch, sweating like a Sumo wrestler and snuffling small breaths through obstructed sinuses.

Provoking anger, disgust and pity from his visitors, Hensley wins huge audience sympathy for his plight.