All year long, the music world has been observing Shostakovich’s centennial: The last great composer the world has known was born in 1906, and he died in 1975. Shostakovich’s actual birthday was a week ago: September 25. In recognition, the New York Philharmonic is playing an all-Shostakovich subscription concert.This critic attended the Saturday night version.

Two works graced the program — two of Shostakovich’s most popular and best: the Cello Concerto No. 1 in E flat, Op. 107, and the Symphony No. 5. He wrote the former for the young, incandescent Mstislav Rostropovich in 1959. (He would write his Second Cello Concerto for him too, in 1966.) And he wrote his Fifth Symphony in 1937, essentially to save his life. He had fallen into disfavor. And, in Stalin’s Soviet Union, disfavor could be fatal.

Partnering in the cello concerto were Lynn Harrell and the Philharmonic’s music director, Lorin Maazel. Early in his career, Mr. Harrell was known as the son of the fine American baritone Mack Harrell; but, in the way of things, the singer is now thought of as the father of the cellist. Lynn Harrell has grown into a valuable performer, eschewing personal indulgence to deliver the composer’s goods.

He played Shostakovich’s work with assurance and skill. He knew what he wanted to do, musically, and he had the means to execute. In the first movement, he was nicely unhurried, neither frantic nor antic. He provided the combination of lyricism and angularity that this music requires (and that much Shostakovich requires). The Harrell sound is a little warm, even a little beautiful, for Shostakovich, and I could have used a bit more gleam and steel. But that is a minor complaint — not even a complaint, but an observation.

Mr. Maazel was excellent at bringing out the first movement’s little pops.

And, overall, he gave the impression of contained violence.

He had the orchestra playing beautifully — really beautifully — at the beginning of the slow movement, and throughout. And Mr. Harrell made this movement a slinky aria, with irrefutable phrasing. He knew to ride the waves of the music.

Then comes the cadenza, which Mr. Harrell began very softly — softly but not inaudibly.No sense in playing something if the audience can’t hear it. All through the concerto, Mr. Harrell demonstrated superb control over his instrument. His final movement was unusually measured, and I would have favored a little more zip, or brio. But Mr. Harrell had his own views, perfectly defensible.

Incidentally, a prominent instrument in this concerto is the French horn — and the Philharmonic’s principal, Philip Myers, was in good form. He was loud — damn loud — and without much pliancy. But he was unflubbing.

Now to the Fifth Symphony. I think you will agree that, when it’s played with brilliance, understanding, and heart, it is overpowering. And so it was on this occasion.

Not that Lorin Maazel didn’t commit his Maazelness.In the first movement, he was careful and brainy — and so calculating, you could hardly sit. He was also extremely slow. I thought of a pianist practicing, in preparation for taking the piece up to speed. It was a little bizarre.

And yet Mr. Maazel had moments of sheer persuasion. There is always a little jazz in him, and there’s jazz in Shostakovich too — even in this symphony. Furthermore, Mr. Maazel usually manages to introduce you to something in the score — even the most familiar score. This happened to me in Shostakovich’s first movement. I could point it out to you.

One soloist who stood out was Robert Langevin, the Philharmonic’s principal flute. He played beautifully, purely, and intelligently.

The second movement of the Fifth is marked Allegretto — but no matter: Under Mr. Maazel, it was super-brisk, as if in compensation for the first movement’s tempo. I believe that Mr. Maazel kept the whole symphony in mind, always. And in the “Allegretto,” he was electric. He had the brass jubilant, or defiant, or both — jubilantly defiant.

As for the Largo, it is, of course, one of the greatest slow movements in the entire symphonic literature. Mr. Maazel put it through his management program.That is, every bar was consciously shaped. But the music had its effect.

And the finale? Throttling, just as it should be, and irresistible. Mr. Maazel had the Philharmonic throwing sound all over the place. You could quarrel with, or object to, a thousand things he did in this symphony. But, at the end, you were drained and thrilled and grateful — and on your feet. Mr. Maazel did right by Shostakovich, and by a work that has been maligned, stupidly.

To honor the composer, Mr. Maazel might have held up the score, raised it in the air. But Mr. Maazel doesn’t use a score. He is a memory man.