It has been St. Petersburg Philharmonic Week at Carnegie Hall. The Russians, under their longtime leader, Yuri Temirkanov, began a three-concert stay on Tuesday night. They conclude tomorrow night, with a program of Rimsky-Korsakov, Shostakovich, and Tchaikovsky.

Tuesday night’s concert was a clear success, enjoyable – if not perfect – from beginning to end. It began with a much-loved work, Prokofiev’s Symphony No. 1 in D, called “the Classical.” This is the composer’s tribute to Mozart, and all things white-wigged (if you will).The first movement could have been crisper, brighter. The St. Petersburg Philharmonic is not necessarily a gleaming machine. But they are musical, and Mr. Temirkanov is outstandingly so. We heard swooping, arresting dynamics, and just a little mockery – mockery that Prokofiev imbeds. The orchestra gave the impression of appreciating a cheeky experiment.

The second movement (Larghetto) was a bit of a surprise: It was warm, then melting, not mocking at all. Strange that such familiar – almost hackneyed – music should be so moving, and so beautiful.

Mr. Temirkanov gave the third movement – the Gavotte – some wonderfully peculiar rhythms, and he and his forces concluded the work with an excited, though graceful, Finale. No, this was not a precise performance, not one that Toscanini would have approved of. But it was smile-making. Mr. Temirkanov does that. His podium technique is odd – barely a technique – but he is something of a wizard.

The concert continued with another beloved work, Schumann’s Piano Concerto. Each of these St. Petersburg concerts has a soloist, for a concerto – and in Tuesday’s spotlight was Helene Grimaud, the French pianist. Ms. Grimaud had a superb evening. She was in complete command of herself, and of Schumann’s music.

The beginning of this concerto – which is fast and sudden – is easy to botch, but Ms. Grimaud handled it with aplomb. She played the balance of the first movement with what you might call a rippling smoothness. Furthermore, she was highly accurate, displaying an enviable technique. Mr. Temirkanov collaborated sympathetically. You might contend that slower sections were slightly too slow, but that is a matter of taste – pianist and conductor made a case for everything they did. As for the orchestra’s woodwinds, they were effective, musical, if not pretty.

In the gestures that open the second movement, Ms. Grimaud did some strange pulling back; she shaped these phrases unusually. And the movement – Intermezzo: Andante grazioso – was slower and dreamier than you normally hear it. Ms. Grimaud made it notably introspective. But she is entitled to her view, and the St. Petersburg strings contributed some lovely sighing.

The last movement, like the first, rippled, and sparkled – smoothly. All in all, Helene Grimaud demonstrated Romantic playing of a high order. Schumann, who wrote the concerto for his pianist love, Clara, would have been pleased.

The audience – pleased – wanted an encore, and Ms. Grimaud gave it one, a Rachmaninoff etude-tableau that showed some of the strengths of the Schumann performance: technical assurance, musical sympathy. Ms. Grimaud left the stage not only to applause but to purrs of satisfaction.

Intentionally or not, she had pointed the way to the final work on the program, Rachmaninoff’s “Symphonic Dances,” that composer’s last effort (1940), and a retro affair: Rachmaninoff is looking back, at his life and oeuvre.

The St. Petersburg gave a good account of the “Dances.” In the first section, we heard that classic Russian brawn, a graininess – to hell with polish. We also heard some admirable solo playing, as from the alto saxophonist. Section II – a waltz – was swirling, soulful, and just glancingly ghoulish. It was also a bit sarcastic, in that familiar Russian way. The closing section danced its way interestingly home.

Mr. Temirkanov favored the crowd with two encores, the first of which was “The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.” The fairy was not feeling her best, apparently. This playing was oddly plodding, and it was, indeed, the worst playing of the night. Tchaikovsky’s music should have been lighter, and more slithery (in those underlying, downward phrases). But they came back with the March from Prokofiev’s “Love for Three Oranges,” which hit the mark. For one thing, the conductor knows that this piece must be absolutely metronomic – particularly at the end.

And may I tell you something about the audience? You know how, at a pop concert, or in a cabaret lounge, people applaud when a song begins, probably to show that they recognize it? When the St. Petersburg began “The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” – so soft and delicate – some patrons actually applauded.

I can’t speak for anybody else, but it amused me.