As it began its season, the New York Philharmonic was all dressed up. Tuesday night’s concert was televised, live on PBS. The stage was strewn with the boldest flowers. The colors of the flag looked rich and great. There was a sense of occasion – and, fortunately, the Philharmonic played pretty well, often very well.

Before the concert began, board chairman Paul B. Guenther appeared, to speak a tribute to Carlos Moseley. This man – sometimes known as “Mr. Philharmonic” – has been executive director, president, and other things at the Philharmonic. The orchestra’s gala opening coincided with his 90th birthday. Nice when life works out that way.

On the program were a concerto and a symphony, both in the center of the central repertory. Maxim Vengerov was on hand, for Beethoven’s Violin Concerto. Mr. Vengerov is now 30, and at the top of the violin heap. He is extremely charismatic, although, for this concerto, one’s charisma is less important than Beethoven’s genius. Would Mr. Vengerov keep himself out of the way, or, better put, would he put his wonderful self at the service of Beethoven?

Sure, no problem.

The concerto began with smooth timpani beats, as conductor Lorin Maazel took a blessedly not-ponderous tempo. This entire orchestral introduction (to speak loosely) was first-rate. Attacks were precise, and sound was meaty, if not especially beautiful. (It need not be.) Mr. Maazel made much of the contrasts between D major and D minor; as usual, he was not just waving a stick.

When Mr. Vengerov came in, he signaled that he would be soulful, but disciplined. The head on his shoulders is steadily musical. His sound, for the most part, was clean and pure.He interacted naturally with the orchestra – and the orchestra is a full partner in this work (the senior partner, you could argue). Mr. Maazel effected those little swellings he likes so well, and that Beethoven likes (sometimes). Where appropriate, the conductor achieved that quality that I can only call “coursing nobility.” And seldom is this score so well defined.

Mr. Vengerov came with his own cadenzas, and that in the first movement was loaded with stirring violinistic chords. It was imaginative, interesting, diverting – without clashing with Beethoven’s music as a whole.

The Larghetto had the right combination of reverence and happy confidence. Mr. Vengerov tossed off some of his lines as though they were bits of conversation. Both violinist and conductor treated this movement rather liberally, and it threatened to become a romanza, but it (largely) stayed safe.

Mr.Vengerov tucked into the Rondo boldly, with a wide, masculine tone. (Yet when the opening motive was repeated – higher – he rightly thinned out.) Throughout the movement, the violinist displayed a spirit of fun, and a sense of improvisation. Mr. Maazel had fun along with him, although he took his swellings too far. They made you look at your neighbor as if to say, “Did you hear what I heard? Geesh!”

In his Rondo cadenza, Mr. Vengerov was off to the races, exulting in runs on that violin. The cadenza was daring – but if you can’t dare in a cadenza…In any case, this one was not lacking in taste, and it was suitably brief. (Well crafted, too.) The movement, and concerto, ended somewhat sourly, in that the final two notes were elongated – unwisely elongated.

Okay, I have a question about concert practice: Since when did boys start getting flowers, from a hall representative (usually an usher)? Seems to me the practice is less than 10 years old – maybe 15. Anyway, I thought it slick that Mr. Vengerov gave his to Sheryl Staples, sitting in the concertmaster’s chair.

There was no intermission, as television decreed against it. That was a bit of a shame, as one could have used some time to recover from the Beethoven, that immortal piece, so satisfyingly played. But after some leg-stretching and coughing, the audience settled in for Dvoyrak’s Sym phony No. 9, “From the New World.” This piece, as you know, contains much theatricality, and ought to play to Mr. Maazel’s strengths (which in any event are multifarious). It did.

Sure, Mr. Maazel indulged in his peculiarities of rhythm, sometimes interrupting Dvoyrak’s flow. At times you wanted to strangle him (Mr.Maazel,not Dvoyrak). And yet the conductor gives you many compensations: For example, when he wants to accent a note, boy, does he accent it. It is well and truly accented. And the first movement ended with a visceral thrill.

Remember when you were 8, and loved the “New World” Symphony? Well, a conductor like Mr. Maazel can take you back to those days – can remind you of why you were smitten in the first place.

To begin the second movement, the Largo, with its famed “Goin’ Home” theme, the Philharmonic laid on some warmth – warmth not being a specialty of this orchestra. The English horn, playing the theme, was not exactly on pitch, and not exactly melting, but he was adequate. The movement overall exuded considerable nostalgia.

Then comes the scherzo, which Mr. Maazel took at a fast, bracing clip. Good – this was helpful after the Largo; it jolted awake, in a way. The orchestra played crisply and tightly, and in the movement’s trio, they evinced a merry Bohemianness. (“From the New World” this piece may be, but it is through-and-through Czech.)

The conductor wasted no time firing up the last movement (Allegro con fuoco). He kept a whip hand throughout, though he allowed for a few of his patented jazzy inflections. That staked a claim on the symphony’s Americanness!

Bottom line: You may be sick of the “New World” Symphony; Lorin Maazel – whatever else we may say about his conducting – is apparently not.