Here’s a radical idea: Why not present a musical work in the manner that the composer intended? This is precisely what producer Alan Alda accomplished on Tuesday evening at the 92nd Street Y with an entertaining production of Igor Stravinsky’s “L’Histoire du soldat.”

Stravinsky penned this tale about the lust for money and the dehumanization of conflagration during World War I. Living in Switzerland, he was forced to make do with whatever musicians he could muster, so the instrumentation of this frigid piece is unique, its timbre ectoplasmic. He envisioned not only a small, ragtag band, but also a narrator who doubles as the devil, an actor to portray the soldier, and a dancer. In a rare gift to his audience, Mr. Alda provided them all.

There was no kitchen sink in this production, but there were videos, puppets, costumes, and lots of interaction between actors and musicians, making the band a de facto supporting cast. Mr. Alda did a fine job of narration, although it is clear that music is not his forte. When accompanied by the chamber orchestra, every other narrator reads his part rhythmically.

Noah Wyle was a sympathetic soldier. The text was updated in the vernacular of today, and Mr. Wyle spoke it naturally, with seemingly little effort or intellectual impediment. The soldier is supposed to be a bit thick. Mr. Wyle played him without pretension.

Colleen Dunn was more than the dancer, assuming several roles in the acted story, allowing Mr. Alda to escape the necessity of changing his voice to portray the old lady or the princess. He could instead weave a sophisticated and clever Old Nick with consummate skill. As a director, he may have left in a little too much dead air, but overall, the action moved along reasonably well.

Musically, however, this was a poor performance. I may be a bit spoiled since this is the third live “L’Histoire du soldat” I have heard in New York this season, and both the Berlin Philharmonic and Jupiter Symphony evenings were superb, but this current pick-up ensemble was surprisingly sloppy and lethargic. They never achieved that special Stravinskyan brutish sound that normally hovers on the edge of ugliness. This group, often out of sync, stepped over that edge once too often.

The regular cornet player was ill, and his substitute literally could not make it through even one individual phrase in the Royal March without a flub. Jaime Laredo as the fiddler went uncharacteristically off of the rails in spots. Perhaps Wednesday’s performance was the better one.

Much more satisfying was the curtain raiser, a spirited, funny read of “The Carnival of the Animals,” by Camille Saint-Saëns.

The composer never performed this piece in public during his lifetime, reserving it instead for his friends and circle. This version included the poetry of Ogden Nash, so outrageous as to be hilarious — he employs the word “kangaroomeringue” to rhyme with “boomerang” — and Mr. Alda read it with much panache. The work is filled with send-ups of the great composers, including Rossini as a dinosaur and Beethoven as a cuckoo, and it was quite well-played by a different combination of instruments than those in the second half of the evening.

Many people in the sold-out crowd had clearly come to see Mr. Alda, but I was attracted by this particular evening in order to hear cellist Sharon Robinson perform “The Swan.” She did not disappoint, lavishing her special vibrato on one of the greatest melodies of all time. Too bad there was no part for her in the Stravinsky.