By all accounts, “Glorious!” is a comedy.

It’s a comedy in which characters will exclaim “Oh!” in synchronized fashion. It’s a comedy in which an entire scene is played out while the audience is led to believe that they know what the scene is about, however, they don’t. It’s a comedy with language, miscommunication, hilarity and gay jokes abound.

But at the heart of “Glorious!,” playing at Theater Three through Dec. 10, is a tender ode to a woman who believed she could sing, but could not.

“Glorious!” is the true story of Florence Foster Jenkins, whose inheritance, lack of family responsibilities and surrounding set of supportive friends (including her wandering but loyal boyfriend St. Clair, her saucy girl friend Dorothy, and her devoted pianist Cosmé McMoon) allowed her to tour with her special brand of singing style.

You could compare her to William Hung, that American Idol reject whose off-key take on “She Bangs” made him something of a one-hit wonder, but to do so would be a disservice to Jenkins.

Audiences laughed, but were also enamored with Jenkins’ enthusiasm and obvious love for singing.

In fact, Jenkins is the predecessor for blissful obliviousness such as the Star Wars Kid, whose light saber twirling video gave him unwanted attention.

“Glorious!” begins with McMoon’s initial meeting with Jenkins and ends with her sold-out final performance at the prestigious Carnegie Hall. The anticipation lies in waiting for Jenkins to start singing.

How bad can it really be? A bit disappointedly, Connie Coit showcases a wonderful singing voice. Her approach to Jenkins’ voice is to throw off her pitch. In recordings, the real Jenkins had no singing voice whatsoever.

But no matter. The joy of Theater Three’s “Glorious!” is in watching Coit’s performance. Her voice may be off, but her triumphant facial expressions and confident mannerisms while singing awfully are excellent. Make sure you buy a seat accordingly in the black box. Hearing her voice is one thing, but seeing that voice come out of her mouth, fuels the whole experience.

Terry Dobson has delightfully sly moments as McMoon. As he’s confronted with Jenkins’s eccentric world, the pianist cannot help but utter barbs. After hearing Jenkins’s voice for the first time, he’s naturally at a loss for words.

Bruce Elliott and Sally Cole look like they’re having a blast playing St. Clair and Dorothy, respectively. Cecilia Flores is very fun as Jenkins’s maid Maria, who only speaks Spanish.

The set design, by director Jac Alder and Barbara Murrell, and costumes, by Michael Robinson, perfectly captures the 1940s. Robinson’s costumes for Jenkins are a riot.

The pacing of “Glorious!” is off. Some scenes within scenes are rushed, without the necessary build-up and pay-off while others are given laborious attention.

Playwright Peter Quilter writes a long monologue at the end that gives the play a forced melodramatic feel. Most of the one-liners have wittier reincarnations elsewhere.

Ironically, for an essentially one-woman show, “Glorious!” needs more of the woman.

But what is seen of the woman is indeed glorious.