Early in the British comedy Virtual Sexuality, spunky virginal teen Laura Fraser cheerfully explains that it's great to be a girl because you get to wear all kinds of terrific outfits, a sentiment Gloria Steinem would no doubt echo. Nevertheless, the gender-bending metaphysical twists and turns of Nick Fisher's script—based on Chloe Rayban's novel—make a certain amount of gender commentary unavoidable, lending gravity to director Nick Hurran's otherwise featherweight teen sex comedy. Great outfits or not, Fraser's girl-powered high-schooler is forced to examine gender politics more closely after a sillier-than-usual magical accident forces her to inhabit the body of her virtual-reality-generated dream man (Rupert Penry-Jones) while simultaneously remaining behind in her own body and developing a crush on her male self. Were Virtual Sexuality more ambitious, it would likely have explored in greater detail the ramifications of Fraser's transformation, as well as the metaphysical complexities of existing as both a man and a woman. But it's about as slick and ambitious as a zit-cream commercial, and it uses its engagingly convoluted plot mainly as the springboard for a sweet but predictable romance—one of Fraser's male friends is of the geek-who-would-be-handsome-if-he'd-only-take-off-his-glasses variety—and some exceptionally silly action-comedy involving an evil electronics company. Within these confines, however, the film has its intriguing aspects, one of them being the unusual abundance of male frontal nudity coupled with an absence of female flesh. Virtual Sexuality is good-natured and reasonably engaging, if silly and tame, placing it a cut above the increasingly audience-insulting teen sex comedies America has churned out in recent years.