The New York Philharmonic has concluded its Summertime Classics series, and done so in fine style. On Friday and Saturday nights, Bramwell Tovey, the English conductor and your genial host, led a program called “Capriccio Carnivale.” It contained the Overture to “The Barber of Seville” (Rossini), “The Carnival of the Animals” (Saint-Saëns), the “Capriccio espagnol” (Rimsky-Korsakov), and “Boléro” (Bo Derek — I mean, Ravel). This music is not only enjoyable — it’s damn good, all of it.

In the “Barber” overture, you want nimbleness, mischief, gaiety, panache, precision. On Friday night — the night I attended — Mr. Tovey and the orchestra did a good job with the piece. But they were not so hot in the precision department. The horn had a struggle, as is a horn’s birthright, of course. And the pizzicatos were only so-so. Also, the performance could have used a speck more intensity — it was a little relaxed, a little genial. But then, Mr.Tovey is that.

“The Carnival of the Animals” requires two pianos, and two pianists to play them. These were, no, not the Labèque Sisters, but Benjamin Hochman and Orion Weiss. Both are in their mid-20s, the former an Israeli, the latter an American (Iowa City). They played unobjectionably, if not with real distinction.Their best moment came in Saint-Saëns’s “Aquarium,” where they achieved the right fishy shimmer.

Throughout the “Carnival,”Mr.Tovey — microphone in hand — read Ogden Nash’s verses,commissioned by the conductor André Kostelanetz in 1954. These verses introduce each of Saint-Saëns’s 14 movements.

Mr. Tovey was charming, as you would expect, and very British: He rolled his Rs. He pronounced the word “composite” with the accent on the first syllable.And he took at least one liberty with Nash’s lines, inserting a reference to Condoleezza Rice. He pronounced the “leezza” like “pizza” — sort of endearing.

He also conducted competently. The Finale was poor, unfortunately. Mr. Tovey’s forces had a hard time getting started, which is to say, a hard time getting together. And this music was without its exhilaration, its headlong verve. Nevertheless, a good time was had by all.

Oh, you may ask who played “The Swan,” everyone’s favorite cello piece. The Philharmonic’s principal, Carter Brey, was absent, but that posed no problem: The associate principal, Hai-Ye Ni, was there, and she played the piece marvelously — with a gorgeous sound and a sure sense of phrasing. The piece breathed, and if it is hackneyed, neither Ms. Ni nor the audience knew it.

On to the “Capriccio espagnol.” First of all, may I say what a superbly crafted and thrilling piece this is? I’d almost forgotten. As a kid, I wore the grooves off my recording of the “Capriccio espagnol” (skipping the slow parts, as kids tend to). Any adult with an open heart, or his hair down, will respond to it too.

Mr. Tovey presided over a solid account. He injected the requisite swagger, which was good, for Rimsky-Korsakov includes a lot of it.The composer also gives the orchestra plenty of opportunity to display virtuosity, both collectively and individually. The Philharmonic followed through.Sheryl Staples, sitting in the concertmaster’s chair, played her part boldly and accurately. But she need not have been so cold or mechanical.

Finally, “Boléro.” In his prefatory remarks to the audience, Mr. Tovey cracked a few viola jokes, in the timehonored tradition. The violas smiled and chuckled appropriately.

As for the performance, it was not a good one, I’m sorry to say. This “Boléro” was routine,sloppy,and a little boring.An excellent performance will cast a spell; this one made you look at your watch or think of your grocery list. I bet that Mr. Tovey and the orchestra did better the second time around, on Saturday night.

By the way, do you know who conducts “Boléro” brilliantly? The Philharmonic’s former music director, Kurt Masur. He’s supposed to be a stodgy kapellmeister. But, in his hands, Ravel’s weird experiment is mesmerizing, gripping — really.

On Friday night, Mr. Tovey gave the very enthusiastic audience an encore, and it was the perfect one — the perfect cap to a Capriccio Carnivale: the Bacchanale from Saint-Saëns’s “Samson and Delilah.” It had due exoticism, eroticism, and savagery. It was also more tightly executed than anyone had a right to expect.

And please accept a footnote: Is there anything more noisy, and more annoying, in a concert hall than a plastic bag? For the entire two hours of the concert, a man near me played with the plastic bag in his lap, and could not be made to stop. A plastic bag is absolutely deafening. The Bacchanale at its most screaming can’t cover it. The end of “The 1812 Overture,” with its cannons and bells, is powerless against it. A plastic bag is the loudest noise on earth.

Maybe they could be banned?