The opening concert was mostly Mahler — by about a half-hour. But the concert included Mozart, too. This was the kickoff gala of the Mostly Mozart Festival at Lincoln Center. The festival is in its 42nd season. Its music director, Louis Langrée, is in his sixth.

Mr. Langrée is a French conductor who combines elegance, intelligence, and brio. That is an excellent combination, indeed. He is energetic, but not manic — there is a lot of mania on podiums these days. You might say it beats languorousness, but not necessarily.

Mr. Langrée opened Tuesday night’s concert with a very familiar Mozart symphony — the second-to-the-last, No. 40 in G minor, K. 550. Can you listen to this symphony again? Is it too familiar? No — you can listen to it again, which is part of Mozart’s genius.

From Mr. Langrée and his Festival Orchestra, the first movement was fast and light. The conductor was obviously under the influence of the “period” movement. In my view, this music can use some grandness and heft — the “period” gods should be defied. But, within his concept, Mr. Langrée conducted this movement very well.

It was balanced, shapely, and clean. All textures, weights, and colors matched. The orchestra was slightly muddy in some faster passages, but that mattered little.

The second movement, Andante, moved along, bowing and bending gracefully. And we heard some especially able flute playing. As for the third movement, the minuet, it was nicely etched — and we heard some gratifyingly sure French-horn playing. Not a hitch.

The closing Allegro? Here, things went somewhat off the rails. The playing was frenetic and scattered — more like a mad race than music-making. What’s more, Mozart seemed insubstantial — and frankly, particularly toward the end, dull. And that is not Mozart, as you know.

Where does Mahler come into all this? After intermission, Mr. Langrée presented “Das Lied von der Erde,” or “The Song of the Earth.” But not in its original, full form. Mr. Langrée presented the chamber-ensemble version arranged by Schoenberg — or rather, started by him. Another man, Rainer Riehn, completed it years later. This version calls for 14 players.

When the piece began, the sound was almost shocking — shockingly tiny. But the ear eventually adjusted. And the ensemble played commendably. Mr. Langrée’s two singers sang commendably, too.

The tenor was Paul Groves, the American known for his Mozart roles in particular. The alto was Anna Larsson, the Swede who is called on for Mahler all over the world. Conductors repeatedly hire her for Symphonies Two and Three.

In his sections, Mr. Groves was both lyrical and clarion. His smoothness was extraordinary, really. And his technique was unfaltering — every note was smack in the center. Moreover, he imparted a good amount of character. In certain spots, one might have asked for more cutting power — more penetration. But Mr. Groves unquestionably got the job done.

Ms. Larsson has always had a most interesting voice. Over the years, I have said it has a “fuzz” on it, or a “husk” around it. It can be quite pillowed. It can also be very effective, as it was on Tuesday night.

There was a deep maturity about Ms. Larsson’s singing. Whittaker Chambers once wrote that Kirsten Flagstad sounded like she came from the center of the earth. Much the same can be said of Ms. Larsson on this occasion. She was beautiful and wise. She sang with soul. And, like Mr. Groves, she was technically unfaltering.

In the fast section of “Von der Schönheit” — when the singer is just horsing around, so to speak — Ms. Larsson might have given us more volume. But that is a small complaint. At the beginning of the “Abschied” — the farewell — her evenness was exemplary. So was her soft singing, in the “Abschied” and elsewhere.

As for Mr. Langrée, he conducted “Das Lied” with understanding and sense. He did not indulge in extremes — for example, there was no Bernsteinian grossness. You could sort of forget the conducting and become absorbed in “Das Lied.” The performance was not self-consciously mystical and was not in awe of itself.

That said, the “Abschied” did not quite “catch,” did not quite transport. It was a little earthbound. But it was good enough.

And all 14 players, throughout the work, did their parts. They are all exposed — lacking a big orchestra to hide in — yet they all came through, to varying degrees. At the end, Mr. Langrée had each stand by himself, a nice gesture.

Incidentally, a couple of patrons had coughing fits at the end of the “Abschied” — a very bad time to have one. No doubt, the majority of the audience was disgusted, and the musicians, too. But one must not judge harshly: Coughing fits, whenever they occur, are a natural at public events. You can’t sit and listen to music with a couple of thousand other people and not expect some mishaps. If you want perfect quiet, buy a CD and stay home.

I must say, too, that Avery Fisher Hall looked very spiffy. It was done up in Mostly Mozart Festival style: elegant, oblong lamps; those acoustical discs that look like big throat lozenges. Extended stage. Audience members sitting to the sides of and behind the orchestra. Avery Fisher is not such an ugly old hall after all.