The term bomba in Philippine cinema refers to a genre of films that emerged in the late 1960s and 1970s, characterized by erotic and sexually suggestive themes. The word bomba (meaning “bomb” in Spanish) became a euphemism for movies that featured nudity, sensuality, and adult themes—often pushing the boundaries of what was acceptable at the time, through a mix of soft- and hardcore elements. The genre flourished during the Marcos era, particularly in the early 1970s, when censorship laws were relaxed. Despite their provocative nature, many bomba films incorporated social commentary, addressing themes of poverty, corruption, and oppression.
Bomba Bernal is screening at International Film Festival Rotterdam

Khavn once more comes up with a bold experiment who assembles a striking collage of archival bomba film clips (both soft and hardcore), a voiceover generated using AI from the writings of Ishmael Bernal, and narration from Khavn himself and his wife and producer Achinette Villamor. The film is split in chapters, with the aforementioned combination being rather pointed on occasion, but always rather funny, even if in a way many would consider “blasphemous”.
The opening chapter immediately sets the tone, narrating what seems to be a tender love story—except the visuals are exclusively composed of grainy, low-quality bomba erotic scenes. The contrast is nothing short of hilarious, with the absurdity peaking in a moment where the narrator describes the “climax of their happiness,” while the on-screen imagery makes the phrase’s double meaning all too clear.
As the film progresses, the visuals maintain their provocative nature, even veering into the appaling at times (notably, scenes featuring an obese, hairy man). However, the narration shifts toward a more reflective and pointed discussion on Filipino cinema. The voices heard deliver sharp critiques of contemporary Filipino films, the role of producers (with some particularly scathing accusations), and the industry’s fixation on escapist narratives. The film does not hold back in its assessment of how producers perceive their audiences, offering a commentary that is both insightful and confrontational.
Throughout its 69-minute runtime (a duration that feels far from coincidental), Bomba Bernal remains unapologetically political. It delves into the impact of bomba films on Philippine cinema and their entanglement with the country’s sociopolitical landscape. The juxtaposition of explicit sex scenes, ranging from nudity and lesbian encounters to fellatio and hardcore pornography, with such pointed commentary is both a testament to Khavn’s irreverent humor and a defiant rejection of political correctness.
At the same time, the quality of Furan Guillermo’s editing becomes evident throughout the movie, with the way sound and image are combined being ideal, even within this absurd mixture. Lastly, the music, which finds its apogee in the surf tracks of the last part, is also on a rather high level.
As with most of Khavn’s work, “Bomba Bernal” is far from a film for everyone. However, for those willing to challenge their preconceptions of what a documentary, or a film, in general, can be, and who are unafraid of a little (or a lot of) provocation, there is plenty to appreciate, in a movie that is as thought-provoking as it is wildly entertaining.