Sylvester Stallone and KISS Steal Spotlight as Kennedy Center Honors Go Hollywood

Mia Reynolds, 12/7/2025Icons and pageantry collide as the Kennedy Center Honors get a Trump-era remix—think more campaign rally, less quiet reverence—yet the heart of American artistry still shines beneath all the gold and glitter.

And yes, President Donald Trump—resplendent in black tie, the kind of grin you see at hometown parades—was in his element. Never one to underplay, he declared the moment “perhaps the most accomplished and renowned class of Kennedy Center Honorees ever assembled.” The air in that gilded room was heavy with legacy, but also, undeniably, with showmanship.

This year, it wasn’t only the faces in the frame that gave pause. The very medals themselves, the Kennedy Center’s famous rainbows, had gotten a facelift. Goodbye to the gentle, multi-colored ribbons; in their place, a sleek gold medallion, navy silk, a burst of color and modern flourish courtesy of Tiffany & Co. Someone somewhere will argue whether this is progress or just a new twist on an old tune. Either way, the moment caught the eye.

First to step up: George Strait. There’s something to be said about a man choosing whether to keep his hat on in the Oval Office. Trump, ever the showman, joked, “If you want to leave it on, you can.” Strait, true to form, quietly tipped it off. The exchange managed to say as much about tradition and gently stubborn pride as any grand speech—maybe more.

“Icons whose work and accomplishments have inspired, uplifted and unified millions and millions of Americans,” Trump remarked, a sentiment riding in on nostalgia and just a hint of campaign bravado. Gloria Gaynor, christened—unarguably—the queen of disco. Michael Crawford, spectral and grand, still “the phantom,” as the president winkingly put it. Then there was KISS, who—let’s face it—brought about enough pyrotechnic swagger to make the Roosevelt desk look like a prop. As for Stallone, Trump seemed to bask in the camaraderie: here’s Rambo, Rocky, and at least half a dozen cinematic versions of grit, standing front row to America’s ongoing performance.

But beneath the sizzle and self-congratulation, a hum of change was running. The Kennedy Center board, traditionally a nonpartisan crew, had, not so quietly, been swapped out for a slate of Trump’s own allies. And for the first time, the president himself was starring as the evening’s host. The announcement of honorees, typically whispered through careful press releases, was now a primetime moment—Trump boasting he was “about 98% involved” in the selections. Is this reinvention? Disruption? Maybe both at once. The selection, it should be said, favored household names over obscure luminaries, a calculation as much as a celebration.

Step just outside those heavy doors, and the ceremonial grandeur gave way to something closer to a backyard blowout. Out in the Rose Garden, the music thumped—bits of KISS, strains of Gloria Gaynor—a mashup that, in another time, might have scored a Fourth of July montage. For all its carefully managed pomp, the evening’s spirit was unruly, even a little rowdy. Has there ever been a Kennedy Center lineup quite like this? A touch of campaign rally, a touch of TV special, certainly.

Tradition and self-promotion shared the spotlight, sometimes awkwardly. Honors speeches braided together a list of near-mythic accomplishments: country’s king, disco’s first lady, Broadway’s eternal phantom, Hollywood’s resident tough guy. Trump’s turn of phrase, looping each artist into a national legend, suggested the ceremony was as much about defining American myth as it was crediting individual achievement.

There’s more on the horizon too. If the rumors are right, the upcoming televised gala will offer more of the same—a tableau of celebrity, presidential panache, and, very possibly, record ratings. Reports have said this will be “the highest-rated show they’ve ever done.” One wonders: Are we watching celebration or campaign spotlight, or have those lines blurred so completely nowadays it’s no longer possible to tease them apart?

Yet, set aside the swirling politicking for a beat and a quieter truth hums underneath. At heart, the Kennedy Center Honors are about the ways songs or performances slip into the bloodstream of a culture. A melody that sees us through a breakup, a film that reminds us why we keep going, a guitar solo that carries the memory of summer so fiercely you can almost smell the freshly cut grass—these things matter. They linger. “Each of you has made an indelible mark on American life and together you have defined entire genres and set new standards for the performing arts,” Trump observed, and it echoed for a second—an Oval Office not staged for history, but quietly, wonderfully, full of it.

So, as 2025 spins forward—nostalgic, restless, always half in love with change—these honors carry more than ceremonial weight. They’re a kind of mirror. What, and who, does a country choose to celebrate? And how does the celebration itself shift as the world does? It’s possible that, tucked among all the rhinestones and rehearsed applause, the real story is one of resilience—the arts, ever evolving, never quite letting go of their claim on American identity.

In all of its pageantry, its odd seams showing, the Kennedy Center Honors remain—well—uniquely, stubbornly American.

If anyone needed a snapshot of America in all its tangled spectacle, consider last Saturday at the White House. The Oval Office, of all places, looked less like the seat of power and more like some whirlwind time capsule—Sylvester Stallone, George Strait (hat and all), Gloria Gaynor aglow in disco pride, Michael Crawford quietly dignified, plus the unforgettable thunder of KISS, in full leather-and-spikes regalia. This wasn’t just an awards night; it was an all-out pageant, American-style, complete with all the frayed edges that keep things interesting.And yes, President Donald Trump—resplendent in black tie, the kind of grin you see at hometown parades—was in his element. Never one to underplay, he declared the moment “perhaps the most accomplished and renowned class of Kennedy Center Honorees ever assembled.” The air in that gilded room was heavy with legacy, but also, undeniably, with showmanship.This year, it wasn’t only the faces in the frame that gave pause. The very medals themselves, the Kennedy Center’s famous rainbows, had gotten a facelift. Goodbye to the gentle, multi-colored ribbons; in their place, a sleek gold medallion, navy silk, a burst of color and modern flourish courtesy of Tiffany & Co. Someone somewhere will argue whether this is progress or just a new twist on an old tune. Either way, the moment caught the eye.First to step up: George Strait. There’s something to be said about a man choosing whether to keep his hat on in the Oval Office. Trump, ever the showman, joked, “If you want to leave it on, you can.” Strait, true to form, quietly tipped it off. The exchange managed to say as much about tradition and gently stubborn pride as any grand speech—maybe more.“Icons whose work and accomplishments have inspired, uplifted and unified millions and millions of Americans,” Trump remarked, a sentiment riding in on nostalgia and just a hint of campaign bravado. Gloria Gaynor, christened—unarguably—the queen of disco. Michael Crawford, spectral and grand, still “the phantom,” as the president winkingly put it. Then there was KISS, who—let’s face it—brought about enough pyrotechnic swagger to make the Roosevelt desk look like a prop. As for Stallone, Trump seemed to bask in the camaraderie: here’s Rambo, Rocky, and at least half a dozen cinematic versions of grit, standing front row to America’s ongoing performance.But beneath the sizzle and self-congratulation, a hum of change was running. The Kennedy Center board, traditionally a nonpartisan crew, had, not so quietly, been swapped out for a slate of Trump’s own allies. And for the first time, the president himself was starring as the evening’s host. The announcement of honorees, typically whispered through careful press releases, was now a primetime moment—Trump boasting he was “about 98% involved” in the selections. Is this reinvention? Disruption? Maybe both at once. The selection, it should be said, favored household names over obscure luminaries, a calculation as much as a celebration.Step just outside those heavy doors, and the ceremonial grandeur gave way to something closer to a backyard blowout. Out in the Rose Garden, the music thumped—bits of KISS, strains of Gloria Gaynor—a mashup that, in another time, might have scored a Fourth of July montage. For all its carefully managed pomp, the evening’s spirit was unruly, even a little rowdy. Has there ever been a Kennedy Center lineup quite like this? A touch of campaign rally, a touch of TV special, certainly.Tradition and self-promotion shared the spotlight, sometimes awkwardly. Honors speeches braided together a list of near-mythic accomplishments: country’s king, disco’s first lady, Broadway’s eternal phantom, Hollywood’s resident tough guy. Trump’s turn of phrase, looping each artist into a national legend, suggested the ceremony was as much about defining American myth as it was crediting individual achievement.There’s more on the horizon too. If the rumors are right, the upcoming televised gala will offer more of the same—a tableau of celebrity, presidential panache, and, very possibly, record ratings. Reports have said this will be “the highest-rated show they’ve ever done.” One wonders: Are we watching celebration or campaign spotlight, or have those lines blurred so completely nowadays it’s no longer possible to tease them apart?Yet, set aside the swirling politicking for a beat and a quieter truth hums underneath. At heart, the Kennedy Center Honors are about the ways songs or performances slip into the bloodstream of a culture. A melody that sees us through a breakup, a film that reminds us why we keep going, a guitar solo that carries the memory of summer so fiercely you can almost smell the freshly cut grass—these things matter. They linger. “Each of you has made an indelible mark on American life and together you have defined entire genres and set new standards for the performing arts,” Trump observed, and it echoed for a second—an Oval Office not staged for history, but quietly, wonderfully, full of it.So, as 2025 spins forward—nostalgic, restless, always half in love with change—these honors carry more than ceremonial weight. They’re a kind of mirror. What, and who, does a country choose to celebrate? And how does the celebration itself shift as the world does? It’s possible that, tucked among all the rhinestones and rehearsed applause, the real story is one of resilience—the arts, ever evolving, never quite letting go of their claim on American identity.In all of its pageantry, its odd seams showing, the Kennedy Center Honors remain—well—uniquely, stubbornly American.