The current program of the New York Philharmonic is a lightish one — not a pops program, exactly, but relatively easygoing. This is not to say that the music is unserious; far from it. It is just — unweighty.

The Philharmonic first played this program on Friday night, and will play it for the final time tomorrow night. This critic heard the Saturday-night version.

And how does that program begin? With a Rossini overture — that to “La scala di seta,” or “The Silken Ladder.” Maestro Lorin Maazel likes to use Rossini overtures, knowing that they’re good curtain-raisers in the opera house and concert hall alike. Unfortunately, the conductor and his orchestra did not put their best foot forward on Saturday night.

Much of the overture was hard, ungainly, and blunt. It needed more sparkle, more charm, more of a smile — in short, more Rossini. And Mr. Maazel’s tempo was so fast, the orchestra could not quite bring it off.

The oboist struggled a bit, and so did his woodwind brethren — and their brass brethren. No one was especially silken in this overture. But, midway through, the orchestra settled down somewhat, and Rossini could be enjoyed.

Following Rossini on this program is Mendelssohn: his Symphony No. 4, that sun-kissed piece. This symphony is known as “the Italian,” and we indeed felt some of that Italian sun — that happy warmth, the kind of warmth that A major is especially equipped to provide.

In the first movement, Mr. Maazel brought out some of the score’s Mozartean qualities. At the same time, the playing was a tad heavy, making you want to remove a few pounds from it. But at least the conductor avoided the over-peppiness favored by the “period” movement. The music was full, rich, and — blessedly — unrushed. How the new conductors like to speed through this music!

The second movement — Andante con moto — had its proper pulse, and its proper inexorability. (It seems clear that Mendelssohn was acquainted with another symphony in A major — Beethoven’s Seventh.) And the third movement — Con moto moderato — was a winner. It was smooth, “horizontal,” and lovely. The conductor gave us some of his Maazelisms — unusual shapings. But these were rather nice.

And how would you like the finale? You’d like it fast, tight, and furious; giddy, surprising, and thrilling. On this occasion, it was okay — good enough.

After intermission, James Ehnes, the Canadian violinist, walked out to play the Glazunov Concerto, penned by that Romantic Russian in 1904. Two seasons ago, Mr. Ehnes played the Walton Concerto, with this same conductor and orchestra. And, in that work, he displayed great virtuosity, purity and, above all, lyricism. I have seldom heard such seamlessness — such pure, sweet singing — on the violin.

Mr. Ehnes was not so fine in the Glazunov on Saturday night. But he was more than capable. He and Mr. Maazel did not wallow in their Romanticism, which was beneficial. They moved right along. The violinist never slopped his way through anything, never turned the music into soup with portamento or sentimentalism. And yet, in certain spots, he and Mr. Maazel might have savored the music more — allowed it a little more bloom.

Unquestionably distinguished was Mr. Ehnes’s playing of the cadenza, which is no piece of cake. The cadenza had its ghostly effects, and Mr. Ehnes gave no sign that this music is difficult. The best players do that, somehow: hide the effort. Later, in the last movement, Mr. Ehnes dug boldly into his strings, but without vulgarity.

Overall, the young man played the Glazunov Concerto tastefully and well. It’s simply that this was not the kind of performance that wins a place in your memory.

Lorin Maazel has chosen to end this program with “On the Beautiful Blue Danube” by Johann Strauss the Younger. This is a somewhat gutsy move — sort of like programming an entire festival devoted to Tchaikovsky. (Mr. Maazel carried out this festival at the beginning of this season.) Critics are apt to say, “Why have you gone all Arthur Fiedler? Why have you opened up a candy shop?”

And, about “Blue Danube” in particular, one might say, “Can’t you save it for New Year’s Eve, guys? It’s not that far away.” And yet Mr. Maazel knows that this piece — a light masterpiece — is for all seasons.

On Saturday night, the opening notes of the piece — shimmering — seemed to come from nowhere. This is not as easy to achieve as it may appear. And the Philharmonic’s horns proved sure-footed. Mr. Maazel toyed with the piece a bit, but it enjoyed being toyed with. And each of the various sections was distinctive — distinctive while still belonging to the whole.

In brief, Mr. Maazel conducted “On the Beautiful Blue Danube” with purposefulness and flair. Flair is not uncommon in this music; purposefulness is rarer, and probably just as needed.

One of Mr. Maazel’s best traits is his catholicity — his love of all music, from Hildegard of Bingen till yesterday. He knows that Bruckner is great, and he can conduct Elliott Carter with authority. But he knows the worth of “On the Beautiful Blue Danube,” too. As should we all.