This movie's general statement consists in trying to 'spruce up' Bach by creating some sort of "bold" audio-visual statement with his music, in some sort of hyper-aware, almost ironical manner. The film's main message is mainly to state that Bach's music is not good enough anymore to be enjoyed 'plain'; it has to be "shifted" towards some sort of cinematic performance art in which the music is never enough: it has to be accompanied by a dancing clavichord, with said clavichord being dumped in the ocean later on; music students playing the Prelude to the first Cello suite in a moving subway train in unison (see how clever the director is?); a dude in a bad powdered wig pretending to be Bach while doing out-of-synch mimicry to the music and all kinds of stupid nonsense and other 'artistic' gimmicks.
The point is that the music this film tries so hard to "spice up" is in reality a trillion times better, deeper, more nuanced and more beautiful that whatever hipster statement the filmakers where trying to convey here. Bach's music is a colorful, infinita, intricate tapestry that doesn't need 'help' or homages. It needs to be listened to, without distractions, in a manner in which every synapse is focused on the music. This film, on the other hand, is basically like trying to wipe your ass with a Rembrandt to make yourself look interesting.
Bach's music will live on forever, while no one will remember this piece of shit in two years.