Carnegie Hall is being generous with orchestras from St. Petersburg this season — and I’m talking Russia, not Florida. In December, the Orchestra of the Mariinsky Theater — formerly known as the Kirov — will play. And this week, the St. Petersburg Philharmonic is in residence. They will play three concerts, ending tonight. The first concert took place on Tuesday night.

And all of these affairs are led by Yuri Temirkanov, the orchestra’s longtime chief. He is a most interesting musician. He can be quite ordinary, uninspired. And he can be wizardly, engrossing, electric. When he’s on, the charisma pulses from the podium. And he is almost always fascinating to watch: weaving and dancing and wheeling, without a baton. About 10 years ago, after Mr. Temirkanov had conducted a piece, the critic sitting next to me said, “He’s so weird” — and it was not really a negative comment.

Mr. Temirkanov’s opening concert began with the overture to Mozart’s “Marriage of Figaro.” The conductor took it at a thoroughly sane tempo, which was welcome: Rushing is now the fashion. It’s as though current maestros say, “Boehm, Krips, Walter — what did they know about conducting Mozart?” They knew plenty, and so does Mr. Temirkanov. So did his predecessor in St. Petersburg (then Leningrad), Yevgeny Mravinsky.

This account was not the crispest, but it was very musical, very stylish. It had mischief and delight. One trill, in particular, was extraordinarily smart and sassy — different.

And, incidentally, you may think that you can’t hear this overture for the 500th time. But you can. Frankly, it’s easy.

Next came another great piece — longer — Beethoven’s Violin Concerto, in which the soloist was Julia Fischer, the young German. When she first appeared in New York, four years ago, she seemed not ready for prime time. Since then, she has — and she was unquestionably ready on Tuesday night.

Throughout the three movements of this concerto, she was in control of herself. There was determination on her face, and determination in her playing. Fundamentally, she met all of Beethoven’s (considerable) technical demands. As for her sound, it was not especially big, and not especially beautiful or distinctive. But it was serviceable.

Mainly, she evinced understanding of this piece, which is what we really desire. Often, she was understated, but never shy. She was careful without being fearful, or hesitant. Her first-movement cadenza was confident and riveting. The third-movement cadenza, she tore through like a polite demon, if you will accept that — and you should, for that was the (unusual) case.

In that immortal slow movement, she was not especially pure, especially in the soft high notes. But she was transcendental — just like the music. Indeed, you could forget Ms. Fischer, or a violinist, or Carnegie Hall; what you had was Beethoven, and beyond.

As for Mr. Temirkanov, he outdid himself, and so did his orchestra. Like the soloist, the conductor showed a clear understanding of this work. He was obedient to Beethoven’s rhythm — incisive, marked. In the first movement, he unlocked a soaring element. And he had the orchestra dig into Beethoven’s glorious chords, but not vulgarly. In some spots, he displayed a kind of insouciance, which was unaccustomed, and effective.

The opening of the slow movement never sounded more like a hymn: The music was aglow, truly holy. And in the Rondo, Mr. Temirkanov was playful and noble, in equal measure. He exhorted the orchestra, pulling merriment, jocularity, and joy from it.

By the way, is there a more humane piece in all the literature than Beethoven’s Violin Concerto — I mean, other than 50 other pieces Beethoven wrote?

The audience would not stop clapping for Julia Fischer, and — after an unusual number of curtain calls (usually they just jump right in) — she obliged with an encore. Some violinists refer to Bach as “the Old Testament” — and she read from that testament. She played the Andante from Bach’s Sonata in A minor. As in Beethoven’s Larghetto, she was not especially pure, and not pretty. But she kept a pulse — vitally necessary. And the piece was transcendental.

After intermission, Mr. Temirkanov conducted a Prokofiev symphony, the Fifth, one of his two most popular (the other being the Seventh). And how do you want the Fifth? Let’s see: You want it wild yet Classical; savage but elegant; not too polished, but not too coarse; graceful and pummeling, with just a touch of lunacy. And Mr. Temirkanov and his band delivered all of these things.

The conductor was alive to Prokofiev’s score, driving it but not beating it to death. He sort of let it play. And from the orchestra, you often heard that wonderful Russian growl, and a warmth with a buzz in it. This was music-making to reach the viscera.

Afterward, the audience would again not stop clapping, and Mr. Temirkanov — after many, many curtain calls — offered an encore: Elgar’s “Salut d’amour.” The orchestra’s playing of it was the definition of ingenuous, or guileless. And the piece was kissed with affection.

Before the downbeat was given on Tuesday night, you might have thought: “This concert will be another day, another dollar. Three canonical works: overture, concerto, symphony. Familiar musicians. What a yawn.” But no. Part of what makes great music great is its durability — its unwear-out-ability. And when the performers are up to snuff, the results are magnificent.