Two presidents of rival countries emerged from their airplanes into a damp Alaskan afternoon on Friday, walking toward a red carpet that cut its way through the steel-colored expanse of a military base.

President Vladimir V. Putin of Russia, setting foot in the United States for the first time in a decade, had just been escorted into the country by a quartet of American fighter jets. He strode toward Mr. Trump, who was waiting at the edge of the carpet. Mr. Trump, a born producer, seemed to relish the spectacle of the moment, all of the attention it was drawing.

And so he clapped for his guest — once, twice, a third time — before Mr. Putin reached him.

This friendly greeting on the red carpet answered no questions about whether the two of them could reach a peace deal to end the Russian war with Ukraine — not that a deal could be reached without Volodymyr Zelensky, the Ukrainian president, who was not invited and whose country was being attacked by Russian forces even as Mr. Trump and Mr. Putin prepared to speak.

But it revealed just how much stake Mr. Trump had placed in a greeting he felt worthy of Mr. Putin, a leader whom most of the West has shunned for an invasion that has killed hundreds of thousands of people.

On their walk down the red carpet, Mr. Trump looked ahead, reaching his arms out and spreading his hands apart, as if to brag about the size of the stage nearby and the throng of reporters waiting. Mr. Trump seemed intent on showing off the most visible (and most threatening) trappings of American power within just a few seconds. A military show-and-tell.

As they walked toward a waiting stage, both men stopped to look up at a B-2 fighter jet flying above them. Mr. Putin, who had not been to the United States outside of U.N. meetings since 2007, looked overhead, repeatedly. The stealth bombers can carry bombs capable of striking an underground nuclear facility, as they did in June when American forces bombed Iranian nuclear sites. The plane screeched overhead, its presence a message of American might that offered a dose of cold reality to the glossier proceedings below.

The scene played out at Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson in Alaska, the hastily chosen venue for a hastily organized meeting. Mr. Trump and Mr. Putin climbed up onto a blue stage emblazoned with “ALASKA 2025,” which did not explain much about what either man hoped to accomplish. After days of impromptu appearances with the press — including with reporters on Air Force One en route — Mr. Trump had fallen quiet.

Reporters began to shout. One clear, loud question rose above the din.

“President Putin, will you stop killing civilians?” a journalist with ABC News called out. Not the kind of question Mr. Putin, who has eliminated press protections in his country, is used to hearing. He made a face somewhere between a groan and a smirk, and gestured to his ear, as if to pantomime difficulty hearing. (Mr. Putin speaks English.)

At this moment, Mr. Trump moved his guest along the stage to the waiting presidential limousine. They strolled by several F-22 fighter jets that are flown at Elmendorf, the kind of aircraft that the pilots use to counter threats of Russian aggression. The two of them climbed into the U.S. president’s vehicle, an armored car known as the Beast, and for a few minutes, they were alone. It was an unusual development that, like much of this visit, was not in keeping with usual protocol. But these days, protocol is whatever Mr. Trump says it is. Mr. Putin’s own limousine was left empty and idling on the tarmac.

In a room inside the base, the two sat in front of a blue banner emblazoned with the phrase “Pursuing Peace” — a vague topic that was perhaps as close as the Americans could come to removing expectations of an immediate cease-fire agreement, something Mr. Trump has cautioned might not happen once talks are over and done with.

Flanked by their foreign policy advisers, the two men sat quietly. Mr. Putin sat with his legs spread wide and his hands clasped. The Russian leader kept his gray eyes down, raising them only when the journalists in front of him began to jostle. Mr. Trump, for his part, gazed forward at the row of cameras and reporters and lights.

It was a sight he has seen countless times before — it felt like countless times just this week — but for now, the president, the de facto producer of this event, had nothing to say. He had signed on to play a part in ending this war, and was negotiating with a leader who felt so entitled to Ukrainian territory that Russian forces kept pummeling the Ukrainians on a day ostensibly about discussing an end to the fighting.

Uncharacteristically, the president stayed quiet as negotiations began.