Gossip, Glitter, and Gold: Variety Sweeps Awards as Taylor Swift and Legends Shine

Olivia Bennett, 12/9/2025At the 18th annual National Arts & Entertainment Journalism Awards, Variety dominated with 20 first-place wins. Esteemed critics celebrated narrative excellence, with highlights including Chris Willman's analysis of Taylor Swift's Eras Tour and Kristen Lopez's feature on disabled performers, signaling a powerful push for change in the industry.

It’s an image: journalists pressed into velvet jackets and silk ties, orbiting each other beneath the hotel’s rain of golden light. Variety was everywhere—its masthead, once a mark of imprimatur, now reading like the top line on Hollywood’s report card. There’s a kind of collective swagger among an editorial team riding a tide like this. You can always tell: it’s not the suits, it’s the way they linger at the bar, confident, as if tomorrow’s news will sort itself out.

The evening’s real currency was narrative power. Chris Willman, Variety’s chief maestro of music criticism, secured Print Journalist of the Year for a second time—rare air, even for a veteran of magazine trenches. Five separate wins for Willman alone. Most talked-about? His panoramic take on Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour—“How Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour Took Over the Entire World”—which did more than document a pop spectacle; it dissected the phenomenon, offering a kind of cultural MRI that could be taught in journalism seminars next semester. Maybe there’s a screenplay hiding in there somewhere.

Variety’s penchant for story didn’t stop at prose. The evening’s most talked-about cover was its Taylor Swift package—not just for the headline, but the art direction itself. It’s almost cheeky: friendship bracelets spelling out messages Instagram was born to envy. Jennifer Dorn, Haley Kluge, Richard Maltz, and Joe Toreno brought together visual storytelling that could outshine a gallery opening, let alone the industry’s usual parade of glossy covers.

But stray too far into the confetti, and you risk missing the substance below the sparkle. Reporters like Brent Lang were pulling double duty: one minute revisiting the backroom machinations of Netflix’s early days, the next, dissecting the gritty cultural birth of the summer blockbuster via “Jaws”—a torch Spielberg lit decades ago, but one Lang clearly has no intention of letting slip into historical haze. Elsewhere, Daniel D’Addario’s theater reviews moved with both grace and knife-edge precision—think a pirouette with a well-concealed stiletto. No surprise he left the room with a Best Theater/Performing Arts Critic accolade firmly in hand.

Of course, Hollywood’s relationship with legacy remains complicated—a careful dance between nostalgia and reinvention. This year’s best obituaries proved the genre remains as vital as ever. Owen Gleiberman’s meditation on Val Kilmer juggled admiration and restraint, unspooling the tale of an actor who somehow managed to radiate star power while dodging its spotlight. Meanwhile, Kate Aurthur remembered Shannen Doherty with enough bite and tenacity to silence a room—a tribute that didn’t just mourn but sparred alongside its subject.

Photography wasn’t left to the wings, either. Take Dorn, Kluge, joined by Jennifer Halper and Emilio Madrid, who conjured up a portrait of Darren Criss and Cole Escola that felt less like an award entry and more like an invitation into Broadway’s next chapter. Lighting, posture, atmosphere—every detail humming with intention.

And because no self-respecting industry gala would lean only on nostalgia, Variety’s winners got candid about change. Kristen Lopez’s feature on disabled performers didn’t try to stage inclusion as a fleeting cause—her reporting painted it as a movement, not just a headline. Her award was more than a nod; it was a signal that advocacy is no longer content to sit politely at the periphery. Meanwhile, Clayton Davis took up commentary with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer—a headline about Tony Hinchcliffe’s controversial set didn’t simply critique, it called out the neat disguises toxicity adopts in the name of entertainment.

Honorary awards arrived, as they should, with a nod to the broader arc of the business. Paul Anka, legend still comfortably in command of a microphone, recast his iconic “My Way” to toast not just his own legend, but the ink-stained, the newly-digital, and the still-hungry in the room. And what’s an honor roll without Marlee Matlin, Kasi Lemmons, or the irrepressible creative force of Seth Rogen and Lauren Miller Rogen? The evening cut across decades, genres, and the eternal tension between old guard and new.

In a city notorious for chasing what’s next while clinging to yesterday’s scripts, Variety’s gambit served as a sharp reminder: artistry, risk, and style aren’t just career flourishes; they’re the bones of the whole affair. And once the Biltmore’s lights were dimmed (and let's not talk about the state of those canapés), the real takeaway was almost whispered between the trophies and the trailing gossip—without the storytellers, the industry’s just smoke and mirrors.

If next year’s ceremony feels daunting, well, it should.

At the Millennium Biltmore, where the chandeliers outshine the headlines and marble whispers with old Hollywood secrets, Variety nearly rewrote its own origin story. The famed trade publication swept through the 18th annual National Arts & Entertainment Journalism Awards with no less than 20 first-place wins. An uptick from last year’s already-impressive 14, which, let’s be honest, would have prompted most mastheads to order a second round of champagne. Instead, the night unfurled as something closer to a coronation, complete with enough trophies to stack a makeshift barricade against weaker competition.It’s an image: journalists pressed into velvet jackets and silk ties, orbiting each other beneath the hotel’s rain of golden light. Variety was everywhere—its masthead, once a mark of imprimatur, now reading like the top line on Hollywood’s report card. There’s a kind of collective swagger among an editorial team riding a tide like this. You can always tell: it’s not the suits, it’s the way they linger at the bar, confident, as if tomorrow’s news will sort itself out.The evening’s real currency was narrative power. Chris Willman, Variety’s chief maestro of music criticism, secured Print Journalist of the Year for a second time—rare air, even for a veteran of magazine trenches. Five separate wins for Willman alone. Most talked-about? His panoramic take on Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour—“How Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour Took Over the Entire World”—which did more than document a pop spectacle; it dissected the phenomenon, offering a kind of cultural MRI that could be taught in journalism seminars next semester. Maybe there’s a screenplay hiding in there somewhere.Variety’s penchant for story didn’t stop at prose. The evening’s most talked-about cover was its Taylor Swift package—not just for the headline, but the art direction itself. It’s almost cheeky: friendship bracelets spelling out messages Instagram was born to envy. Jennifer Dorn, Haley Kluge, Richard Maltz, and Joe Toreno brought together visual storytelling that could outshine a gallery opening, let alone the industry’s usual parade of glossy covers.But stray too far into the confetti, and you risk missing the substance below the sparkle. Reporters like Brent Lang were pulling double duty: one minute revisiting the backroom machinations of Netflix’s early days, the next, dissecting the gritty cultural birth of the summer blockbuster via “Jaws”—a torch Spielberg lit decades ago, but one Lang clearly has no intention of letting slip into historical haze. Elsewhere, Daniel D’Addario’s theater reviews moved with both grace and knife-edge precision—think a pirouette with a well-concealed stiletto. No surprise he left the room with a Best Theater/Performing Arts Critic accolade firmly in hand.Of course, Hollywood’s relationship with legacy remains complicated—a careful dance between nostalgia and reinvention. This year’s best obituaries proved the genre remains as vital as ever. Owen Gleiberman’s meditation on Val Kilmer juggled admiration and restraint, unspooling the tale of an actor who somehow managed to radiate star power while dodging its spotlight. Meanwhile, Kate Aurthur remembered Shannen Doherty with enough bite and tenacity to silence a room—a tribute that didn’t just mourn but sparred alongside its subject.Photography wasn’t left to the wings, either. Take Dorn, Kluge, joined by Jennifer Halper and Emilio Madrid, who conjured up a portrait of Darren Criss and Cole Escola that felt less like an award entry and more like an invitation into Broadway’s next chapter. Lighting, posture, atmosphere—every detail humming with intention.And because no self-respecting industry gala would lean only on nostalgia, Variety’s winners got candid about change. Kristen Lopez’s feature on disabled performers didn’t try to stage inclusion as a fleeting cause—her reporting painted it as a movement, not just a headline. Her award was more than a nod; it was a signal that advocacy is no longer content to sit politely at the periphery. Meanwhile, Clayton Davis took up commentary with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer—a headline about Tony Hinchcliffe’s controversial set didn’t simply critique, it called out the neat disguises toxicity adopts in the name of entertainment.Honorary awards arrived, as they should, with a nod to the broader arc of the business. Paul Anka, legend still comfortably in command of a microphone, recast his iconic “My Way” to toast not just his own legend, but the ink-stained, the newly-digital, and the still-hungry in the room. And what’s an honor roll without Marlee Matlin, Kasi Lemmons, or the irrepressible creative force of Seth Rogen and Lauren Miller Rogen? The evening cut across decades, genres, and the eternal tension between old guard and new.In a city notorious for chasing what’s next while clinging to yesterday’s scripts, Variety’s gambit served as a sharp reminder: artistry, risk, and style aren’t just career flourishes; they’re the bones of the whole affair. And once the Biltmore’s lights were dimmed (and let's not talk about the state of those canapés), the real takeaway was almost whispered between the trophies and the trailing gossip—without the storytellers, the industry’s just smoke and mirrors.If next year’s ceremony feels daunting, well, it should.