No he podido averiguar qué obra dramática es la que interpretan al comienzo y a media celebración.
La ceremonia tiene gran calidad en muchos aspectos. Encuentro cierta ironía en el fuerte dramatismo de la música, pero lo cierto es que no hay ocasión más a propósito para ella (lo fricki también sirve para llegar a Dios). Sólo le pongo reparos a la excesiva iluminación: también en ese aspecto podría haberse cuidado el dramatismo del oficio. Cualquiera que haya estado en una iglesia ibérica de piedra ha podido experimentar una vuelta a la caverna primitiva en el silencio, el frío, la humedad, el olor del incienso y la penumbra. Todo ello preservado por la sacralidad.
La catedral de Westmister es católica, mientras que la abadía de Westminster es anglicana.
Por fortuna, encontré esta entrada que además de alabar esta misa y hacer interesantes reflexiones sobre la música en los oficios religiosos, proporciona los nombres de los compositores y sus obras:
"... The musical Mass setting of choice for the occasion was the Mass for Five Voices (Misa para cinco voces) by William Byrd (1539–1623). It is the most dramatic, most difficult, and most emotionally compelling of the three Masses that Byrd wrote for the Catholic Mass. In his time as Queen Elizabeth’s own composer, Byrd was writing English music for the Anglican Church by day and, by night, secretly composing music for the Catholic Church in hiding, for Masses celebrated in castles and manors untouched by the politics of the time.
There was so much poignant and thrilling about hearing this particular setting, performed perfectly of course, in the open daylight, in a restored Catholic Church in England, with the Pope presiding, at a Mass attended by the Archbishop of Canterbury himself. Byrd’s Catholicism is in hiding no more! Instead, it is available to the entire world in the context of a liturgical splendor unlike any we’ve yet seen.
Even more strikingly, glorious music such as this has been in hiding in the Catholic world as well, for some 40 to 50 years, during which time to favor this approach to liturgical music was to mark yourself as something of an alien to the prevailing ethos that favored pop and folk music. One wonders whether this particular Mass effectively provides a symbolic closure to this past and opens a new door to the future.
One could watch and listen to the Mass and easily believe that the unpleasantness of the postconcilar period had never existed. It all seemed to inevitable, so proper, so fitting, so perfect. What’s more, the actual Gregorian propers of the Mass for the introit and the communion were also sung -- proclaimed might be a better term, with strength and flawless intonation and diction. This is what happens when you have a choir that does indeed sing chant every single day in this venue that might have the greatest liturgical choir program on the entire planet, built from the ground up from the turn of the 20th century to our own times.
The extraordinary nature of this event was evident from the grand entrance, featuring a “Tu es Petrus” (Tú eres Pedro) setting by Scottish composer James MacMillan, another man who has made his mark on history. The setting was regal and unapologetically so. It was a great example of modern liturgical music for procession. This piece in particular was reprised for the music accompanying the return of the Gospel following the Gospel reading, an interesting moment that no Catholic American has experienced because it is not our tradition. The chant books provide no music for this action so English Catholicism (as explained to me by several commentators on this site) has come to treat this as a time for organ improvisation of a particularly dramatic sort. The MacMillan reprise here came across as startling at first but aggressive in its majesty on second thought... "