In an age not overflowing in conductors, Osmo Vänskä stands out, and he stood out again Friday night, as he led the Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra. Mr. Vänskä is a Finn who is music director of the Minnesota Orchestra. Minnesota, of course, is a logical place for a Finn to be. The Upper Peninsula of Michigan may be even more logical — but their orchestras aren’t so hot.

Mr. Vänskä is an exacting guy, and he can be really intense. In his first season with the Minnesotans — 2003-04 — he brought them to Carnegie Hall. He wrung every last drop from them. A fellow critic of mine commented, “If he keeps this up, he’ll kill ’em.”Apparently Mr. Vänskä has yet to do so. But I bet that the Minnesota Orchestra is playing consistently well.

The program Friday night opened with a piece by Frank Martin, the Swiss composer who lived from 1890 to 1974.You may recall — or you could well guess — that 1956 was a big Mozart year. We are celebrating Mozart’s 250th now; back then, it was the bicentennial. Radio Geneva asked Martin to mark the occasion, and he came up with an “Ouverture en hommage à Mozart.” It begins a bit like the “Figaro” overture. And it features a Mozartean nimbleness and ebullience.

Under Mr. Vänskä, the Festival Orchestra played the piece precisely and energetically.The woodwinds, in particular, came through. One might have asked, however, for more of a smile, more gaiety, from Mr. Vänskä.

The evening continued with the only work by Mozart himself on the program. This was the beloved, and very great, Symphony No. 35 in D, nicknamed the “Haffner.”The performance suffered a bad beginning — a faulty entrance. But there was hardly anything wrong after that.

Mr. Vänskä simply put on a clinic of Mozart conducting. The orchestra was clean and agile, but not too chamber-ish. The music had both majesty and nuance. Mr. Vänskä is detail-oriented — nothing gets by him — but not fussy. Sighing phrases were beautiful. Underlying parts were not buried.Each section of the orchestra was made to know what other sections were doing.As familiar as this music is, it was anything but tired.

The second movement is marked Andante, and Mr. Vänskä was in complete compliance: He kept the music moving, allowing nothing to sag.This is particularly important in that the movement is rather long. In temperament, the music was unusually refined, and even a bit haughty in spots. The third movement, Menuetto, began a little loosely, but Mr. Vänskä quickly corrected that, tightening his forces up. And he reminded us that much of good Mozart conducting is a matter of good phrasing.

The last movement is marked Presto, and Mr. Vänskä made it almost Prestissimo. But he was never out of control, and neither was the orchestra. They zipped and chortled their way through the music expertly. As I have said, we are not in a golden era of conductors — which makes Mr. Vänskä all the more valuable.

After intermission, a young Armenian — barely 20 years old — came on to play the Beethoven Violin Concerto. This was Sergey Khachatryan, who is not to be confused with the composer of “The Sabre Dance.” Mr. Khachatryan has won a couple of big competitions, and is embarked on a big career. Incidentally, he has masses of hair, shooting up and out wildly. This was cheering to see. Maybe Mr. Khachatryan can revive the tradition of big-haired virtuosos — think Paganini and Anton Rubinstein.

Under Mr. Vänskä, the Beethoven Concerto began very well. The timpani were duly soft but perfectly audible. And Mr. Vänskä applied his mixture of clarity and grandeur. You settled in for a good performance.

But when Mr. Khachatryan came in, he immediately took the air out of the music, if not out of the entire auditorium. He slowed the tempo way down, but worse than that, his playing was excessively relaxed and soupy. He might have been improvising some nocturne. In these hands, the music had no spine, barely any body.It was kind of a jellyfish — a beautiful, drowsy jellyfish, with all the time in the world. When Mr. Vänskä took over, in the tutti sections, he tried to make the music sound like Beethoven again. But it was a losing battle.

Obviously, young Mr. Khachatryan has something to say, musically, and the technical means with which to say it. (Although poor intonation would dog him all concerto long.) But he should not indulge himself this way in Beethoven’s music.

Once the first movement ended, I turned to the critic sitting behind me and said, “Well, we’ve already had the slow movement.What comes next?” He said, “I have to meet some people on Sunday” (and, bear in mind, this was Friday). “Do you think I’ll make it?”

The second movement, Larghetto, was not only slow, but daringly, glacially slow. This might have worked, if the first movement had been played more sensibly. Nothing could snap Mr. Khachatryan out of his reverie; he was in his own private Idaho. And, in truth, he did some beautiful playing — some beautiful Romantic playing, and some particularly nice soft playing. Mr. Vänskä did well to keep the orchestra under him.

Finally, the Rondo was decent, taken at a non-bizarre tempo. It would have been more successful with better intonation and better definition. But at least the music was recognizable as the Beethoven Violin Concerto.

I swear, when we left Avery Fisher Hall, it seemed as if the Frank Martin overture had been played three days before.

Until August 26 (Lincoln Center, 212-721-6500).