“Look who’s here: my Rosenkavalier,” says Blanche DuBois in “A Streetcar Named Desire.” Well, look what’s revived at the Metropolitan Opera: “Der Rosenkavalier,” Strauss and Hofmannsthal’s undying evocation of Old Vienna. On Friday night, the company gave a beautiful performance, worthy of the work itself.

Missing from the pit was music director James Levine, one of the great Strauss conductors (following from his mentor, George Szell). Conducting instead was Donald Runnicles, a Scotsman who is music director of the San Francisco Opera, principal conductor of New York’s own Orchestra of St. Luke’s, and principal guest conductor of the Atlanta Symphony. Mr. Runnicles is also a frequent guest in Salzburg. He can be relied on for competence.

And his work on Friday night was, indeed, competent. Mr. Runnicles moved the opera along at a good pace, and he did nothing unreasonable. But the score lacked the magic that a conductor will ideally impart. And the orchestra, under Mr. Runnicles, was somewhat sloppy: blowing entrances, for example. In addition, that orchestra was often unnecessarily loud for the singers (this despite Strauss’s love of covering them).

I should not say, however, that Mr. Runnicles’s conducting was entirely without magic: Baron Ochs’s waltz at the end of Act II was marvelously judged, delicious, irresistible. Your smile could have made your face hurt. And there were other winning moments as well.

In the title role was one of the great Octavians of today, Susan Graham.(Another great Octavian, Angelika Kirchschlager, will appear at Alice Tully Hall next month, in duo recital with Felicity Lott.) The composer Ben Moore has written a parody song for Ms. Graham called “Sexy Lady.” It’s the lament of a mezzo who’s always having to perform trouser roles, such as Octavian; she longs to have the “sexy lady” soprano parts. But in “Der Rosenkavalier,” she sings, “at least I get to wear a dress when I’m a girl playing a boy playing a girl. What a mess!”

Ms. Graham plays a boy playing a girl very well – and her singing, on Friday night, was characteristically superb. One of her chief virtues is evenness; the line is almost never out of balance. And her intonation is exemplary: You’ll find her in the center of the note. As for the voice, it is pleasing up and down, but it is positively exciting in the upper register. Strauss would have loved it.

Opposite Ms. Graham as the Marschallin was the German soprano Angela Denoke, making her Met debut. She is a star in Europe, particularly at the Salzburg Festival. Last summer, she triumphed there as Marietta/Marie in “Die tote Stadt.” (She was less triumphant as Leonore in “Fidelio” at an earlier Easter Festival.) Ms. Denoke is an imperfect singer, outstanding neither in voice nor in technique. But the overall impression can be excellent. I think of something Sophia Loren said (and I paraphrase): “I have a bad nose, a bad mouth, a bad chin, and bad cheeks – but put it all together, and it comes out all right.” Ms. Denoke is a touching singer. And that is a quality, an intangible one, worth gold.

She is also … a looker. That does one no harm, in opera as in life. In fact, Ms. Denoke’s looks are Schwarzkopfian (and I’m talking about Elisabeth, not Norman). And Ms. Schwarzkopf – no slouch of a Marschallin herself – was known as “the most glamorous woman in Europe.”

Despite Susan Graham’s excellence, and Angela Denoke’s radiance, Peter Rose, as Baron Ochs, came very close to stealing the show. He is a superb actor, big, physical, but not unsubtle. His Baron Ochs was dangerous, as well as hilarious. If Mr. Rose couldn’t sing, he’d be a hit on Broadway. But he can sing – a truth you could overlook, in that brilliant characterization. He had no problem with Ochs’s low notes, and no problem with his high ones. (Strauss imposes on Ochs a surprisingly wide range.)

Laura Aikin was the soprano portraying Sophie, and she was adequate, with a clear, controlled voice, if a slightly strident one. Sweetness is not needed with every voice – and Ms. Aikin was sweet in character, which matters for Sophie. She was also righteous – which matters as well.

Singing Faninal was Hakan Hagegard, a consummate pro. His baritone was lovely, his technique was solid, his acting was wise. And a first-rate singer, handling a second-rate role – Annina – was the mezzo Wendy White. It would be hard to get more out of this role, and I doubt it has ever been better sung.

Matthew Polenzani – who had to sit out a recent “Barber of Seville” at the Met, owing to illness – was the Italian Tenor, in characteristically fine form. The soprano Claudia Waite takes on a number of minor roles for the company – she was Berta in this “Barber”- and she always satisfies. So it was with her Marianne in “Der Rosenkavalier.” The veteran bass Paul Plishka exuded his customary authority as the Police Commissary, and I note that he was the Notary in the original cast of this production (1969).

Gregory Lorenz was vulgarly winning as Leopold, Ochs’s valet – you couldn’t take your eyes off him. And the child playing Mohammed, Zachary Vail Elkind, puttered around adorably.

“Der Rosenkavalier,” of course, culminates in Strauss’s immortal Trio, followed by the duet “Ist ein Traum.” In the former, you could have asked for more warmth from Ms. Denoke and Ms. Aikin; also better intonation from Ms. Denoke. Susan Graham’s stood out as a great voice, governed by a musical mind. And in the duet, she was nicely understated. Toward the very end, she gave the most beautiful piano on a G you’ve ever heard. Hers is an Octavian that will be recognized as historic, once she’s safely retired, or dead.

On that sad subject: Friday night’s performance was “dedicated to the memory of Carlos Kleiber,” the great Austrian conductor – son of Erich – who died last July.

I append a final note, outside the realm of music: In an interview with the Austrian press last summer, Maestro Runnicles said that, if the Americans re-elected President Bush, he would leave the United States – because once might have been an accident, but twice would mean “they actually want him.” Well, here he is. Politicians aren’t the only ones who break promises.

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If any orchestra “owns” an opera, the Vienna Philharmonic owns “Der Rosenkavalier.” They played it in Salzburg just last summer. But I’m not sure I’d automatically choose the Viennese forces over the Met orchestra – native edge or not.

In any case, just as the Met was opening its “Rosenkavalier,” the Vienna Philharmonic was opening a three-concert series at Carnegie Hall. They were led by Mariss Jansons, the Latvian conductor who recently left the Pittsburgh Symphony for the Concertgebouw Orchestra of Amsterdam.

Saturday night’s program consisted of two first symphonies: the No. 1 of Sibelius, and the No. 1 of Brahms. You could sense, in the hall, that people expected big things: Mr. Jansons is one of the best conductors in the world, and the Vienna Philharmonic is one of the best orchestras. It should have been a good concert – and it was.

That the Viennese played beautifully need hardly be said: Their sound is undeniably special, made more so by the beneficent acoustics of Carnegie Hall. The clarinet solo that opens the Sibelius was filled with mystery, transporting the listener. And as Mr. Jansons led the orchestra, you could hear control without smothering. The conductor imposed discipline, while allowing for bloom.

The second movement, Andante, breathed beautifully, like some Scandinavian zephyr, if we can have such a thing. The Scherzo was of course correct and reasonable – but could have had more boldness, more drama. And the Finale was uncommonly lush, that sound bathing the ear – yet more could have been done with this music, as with the symphony as a whole. There was more musical satisfaction to be had from what Sibelius wrote down. You can’t really argue with anything Mr. Jansons did; but you can argue for more.

The Brahms (famously dubbed “Beethoven’s Tenth”)? It began with a perfect entrance, which, in a world of poor ones, is not nothing. Then Mr. Jansons showed again that combination of discipline and bloom. The bottom of the music – the foundation, and pulse – was insistent, while the top was expansive. One heard that Vienna Phil sound welling up from the center of the earth. And Mr. Jansons’s approach in the first movement was Olympian.

In the second movement, the orchestra sounded like some vast organ, in which every register is distinct and right. This movement offered sweeping, Brahmsian Brahms (which is a very good thing for Brahms to be). The following movement had its horizontal loveliness, with the woodwinds lithe and the brass burnished.

The final movement has a kind of run-up, or prelude, and this was quite pretty, and correct – inarguable, as with the Sibelius. But it also lacked tension, suspense, anticipation. Mr. Jansons obviously has his own conception (and it may be Brahms’s).The Viennese horns, incidentally, experienced a rare struggle.

And the great C-major hymn that closes the symphony? How did that sound? Well, whaddya think? The happy coupling of the Vienna Philharmonic and Carnegie Hall did not disappoint. Any orchestral-sound junkie would have been in seventh heaven. But this playing was almost too beautiful, missing a sense of noble, striving humanity. Still, I think of the old hair-product ad: “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.”

After the symphony, the orchestra played maybe the most popular encore in the world: Brahms’s Hungarian Dance in G minor. This rendition was inarguable – of course – but it was also rather polite. Frankly, it had little effect, if you’ve heard Lorin Maazel milk the bejesus out of it.

“Der Rosenkavalier” will be performed again March 15, 18, 23 & 30 at 7:30 p.m.; March 26 at 8 p.m.; and April 2 at 12:30 p.m. (Lincoln Center, 212-362-6000).