By Anita Huslin
Washington Post Staff Writer
Monday, December 4, 2006; C01

Aretha Franklin belted out "A Natural Woman" for Smokey Robinson while Sarah Brightman serenaded Andrew Lloyd Webber with "Memory." The Israel Philharmonic paid homage to Zubin Mehta by playing a Viennese waltz. Jessica Simpson warbled "9 to 5" for Dolly Parton. And, in the only non-musical act of the night, Tom Hanks outed Steven Spielberg for poaching his first office at Universal Pictures.

And the president actually got into the groove when the Temptations sang "My Girl."

It was the artistic equivalent of "This Is Your Life" last night at the Kennedy Center Honors gala, that chestnut of a ceremony for five people whose colleagues and admirers assemble to point out what the box office already knows: They're stars in a galaxy all their own.

To a degree, it's become something of a glittery exercise in back-scratching among the icons of entertainment. This year, there's Smokey Robinson (who saluted Stevie Wonder a few years back), Dolly Parton (showed up for Carol Burnett's award), Zubin Mehta (feted composer Leonard Bernstein 26 years ago), Steven Spielberg (here two years ago when John Williams was an honoree) and Andrew Lloyd Webber (okay, his first appearance, but it seems like he ought to have been here before).

Which might prompt one to ask: If everybody is somebody, then is nobody anybody? But this, of course, is missing the point. For as long as there is expansive artistic talent in the world to celebrate, an enlightened society should recognize it, the thinking of the Honors program goes.

And so it was last night before a Kennedy Center Opera House packed with more than 2,000 people, where the honorees were each treated to an egalitarian 17-minute 50-second homage by their peers. The production was more CBS than PBS, but on a night when A-list spotting is as much the fun as the performance, that seemed to suit the audience just fine. (CBS will air the show in a two-hour special on Dec. 26.)

"The poet laureate of love," as Franklin called Robinson, smiled when she introduced his old producer Berry Gordy, who saluted Robinson with a double-pump of fists into the air.

Then they rolled out the songs . . . "Going to a Go-Go," "Tears of a Clown" and "Shop Around," as Laura Bush, and Condoleezza Rice seated behind her in the president's box, nodded their heads from side to side.

"What a sound!" said 1993 honoree Arthur Mitchell, choreographer and founder of Dance Theatre of Harlem, seated in the audience.

There was a tribute to Parton by Reese Witherspoon, who told the story of meeting Dolly for the first time in the home of Johnny and June Carter Cash.

"I stepped into this temple of country music, awed and moved, and there standing, a surprise orchestrated by friends, was Dolly Parton," Witherspoon said. "I burst into tears. And in that moment that followed you didn't get in the way of all my tears, you stretched out your arms and I came to you, and you just said, while you were hugging me tight, 'I'm just happy to be here with you.' "

It was a night to be embraced by old friends, and lovers, as was the case with Andrew Lloyd Webber. After one of the most gracious introductions ever by an ex-wife, in which Sarah Brightman proceeded to describe the composer as "funny, boyish, self-effacing, adorable, complicated, passionate, exasperating, lovable, explosive, demanding, sensitive and often extremely outrageous," she then explained that all of those traits were in the service of a "search for the melody that lifts the story onto the stage."

Singer Corey Glover launched into song from Lloyd Webber's "Jesus Christ Superstar," Christine Ebersole sang "As if We Never Said Goodbye," and Elena Roger, the London star of "Evita," danced across the stage. Lloyd Webber sat enthralled in his seat, singing along.

It was a night of return appearances for violinist Itzhak Perlman, who was himself an Honors recipient three years ago and came two years ago for composer John Williams (who was also here last night to honor Spielberg). In introducing his "dear, dear" old friend Mehta, Perlman told of his love of surprises, and raised the curtain on the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra, which had traveled all the way from Tel Aviv to perform for their music director.

"You lead with your eyes and speak through your heart," Perlman said of maestro Mehta. "Your conducting is communicating."

Perhaps because he was the only non-musician on the program (not to mention one of the biggest box office successes in the entertainment business), Spielberg got the grand finale treatment, with roasts from two of his favorite actors and a patriotic sendoff from World War II veterans.

Actor Liam Neeson told of his growing frustration with working on "Schindler's List," and Spielberg was telling him how to light a cigarette, inhale the smoke, exhale.

"He was literally telling me how to breathe!" Neeson said. "I thought: Wait a minute, I knew how to breathe. And as a ex-smoker I certainly knew how to smoke. Where was I in all of this? I was being manipulated, used! . . . I shared this concern with a fellow actor after work and my colleague said, 'Well, I reckon a good conductor needs a good soloist.' "

Hanks also illuminated the director with a tale of how he got his start in the business.

"A few decades ago a young man showed up at the gates of the fabled Universal Studios, dressed in a cheap suit and carrying an empty prop of a suitcase, hoping to sneak into one of Hollywood's great temples of magic-making," Hanks said. "He had driven from Long Beach fueled by chutzpah, moxie and his mom's kosher breakfasts.

"He boldly strolled through the front gate of Universal doing his best to look like an employee, granting Scottie the guard a confident wave and then miraculously succeeding in the masquerade. Steve Spielberg, the actor, trespassed onto the lot and had all of Universal Studios as his personal fiefdom."

For nearly three months Spielberg hung around soundstages and back lots, Hanks said. "He found a vacant office and pretended it was his. One day he snuck onto the stage where Hitchcock -- Alfred Hitchcock -- was directing 'Torn Curtain,' to see the master of suspense do what he wanted to do himself. It was Hitchcock and Spielberg -- together for the first and only time -- right up until the moment he was thrown off the set."

If Hanks got the laughs, the tribute ended on a poignant note as a group of veterans who survived the D-Day invasion at Normandy stood and saluted Spielberg for his work on "Saving Private Ryan."

Spielberg, visibly moved, reached behind him to grasp his wife's hand while the Army Chorus sang "I'll Be Seeing You" a cappella. The president and first lady stood, and the Opera House followed.

As the crowd filed out to the dinner party afterward, it was declared "a soaring triumph!" by Jack Valenti.

"A beautiful night!" said Bill Frist.

And, Joe Lieberman noted, "It makes me wonder why we don't think about going to the symphony and the theater more often."