On Tuesday evening, the New York Philharmonic performed its final concert before embarking on an East Asian tour, including a well-intentioned but politically naïve visit to Pyongyang. On the podium was Lorin Maazel, but the conductor who came most readily to mind was Otto Klemperer, who suffered so publicly from bipolarity.

The program featured both the sunniest and the darkest of all of the symphonies in the literature. But first, some Rossini. The overture to “La scala di seta (The Silken Ladder)” is not your typical high-calorie piece, with dramatic twists and rousing turns, but rather a delicate hothouse blossom. Mr. Maazel did a good job of keeping things light and airy, but principal oboist Liang Wang blew his opening solo — and not in a good way — having difficulty fitting so many notes into so few measures. He recovered nicely for the reprise and overall not much damage was done to the mood of the evening.

No essay is more enjoyable than Felix Mendelssohn’s “Italian” Symphony, and the orchestra responded to Mr. Maazel’s kinder, gentler approach with impressive refinement. Keeping the first three movements relatively quiet was charming, the music flowing unencumbered without too much tinkering from the leader. When the lively Saltarello began the final section, a somewhat louder-than-normal volume was exciting and the ensuing Presto was solidly executed. Maestro is at his best when presenting the warhorses without attempting to recompose them.

When the Phil delivered its Tchaikovsky festival earlier this season, Maestro Maazel conducted the first five symphonies, but passed the sixth to a guest conductor, Ludovic Morlot. While No. 4 under Maazel had been tremendously exciting, No. 6 under borrowed hands was lackluster. With this current performance, Mr. Maazel completed his cycle quite eloquently, but the crowd fought him tooth and nail to the finish.

This last symphony is Tchaikovsky’s suicide note; he died just nine days after conducting its world premiere. This was a sensitive performance, with the Phil strings in good voice through the trickily sentimental passages of the opening movement that starts out Adagio. But when the lovely music was over, the audience burst out into so much coughing that Mr. Maazel had to wait for a long time before commencing the Allegro con grazie, even aborting a false start to allow more phlegm to arise.

There was an amusing incident to relate. The Allegro molto vivace is notorious for being so thrilling that audiences simply cannot help themselves and usually clap at its conclusion. Some conductors try to fight back by starting the final movement without pause, but this only leads to the music being subsumed by the accolades. Mr. Maazel is savvy enough to know that the applause is coming, and so he ended this movement in the most rousing of manners, eliciting a hearty ovation from the hall. He was hoisted on his own petard, however; the door to the wings opened so that he could make his exit. Even the stagehands thought that the symphony was over.

But there is so much more, as the Adagio lamentoso that describes so achingly the melancholia of the composer illustrates. Here Mr. Maazel was brilliant, coaxing just the right amount of pathos from his charges. The movement, and therefore the work, ends extremely quietly, and Maestro held up his hand for silence. But one enthusiastic patron began clapping instantaneously and then all joined in, completely destroying the bittersweet flavor so painstakingly established by the conductor.

Mr. Maazel might enjoy North Korea. There the audience only applauds on command.