On Saturday afternoon, a film of a concert led by the enigmatic Carlos Kleiber was part of a series of films celebrating Beethoven at the Walter Reade Theater.

Kleiber was the son of the great Erich Kleiber, who, among many other accomplishments, conducted the world premiere performance of “Wozzeck” by Alban Berg. Although born with the Christian name Karl, Kleiber moved to Argentina at the age of 5 when his father scorned the incipient Nazi regime. He forged a distinguished but sporadic career, prompting Herbert von Karajan to quip that “Carlos only conducts when his freezer is empty.” His performances have a special frisson, the recording of “Der Freischütz” made in the 1970s practically leaping off the vinyl.

Our concert began in Mexico, with Kleiber leading the Vienna Philharmonic in a 1982 performance of the Coriolan Overture. The filming was by Televisa from the Festival de Cervantino and left something to be desired. Occasionally there were skips in the music and slips in the continuity. But the Kleiber realization was fascinating. What normally is a mysterious and violent prelude to a very bloody play, in these hands transformed into a rather tender and lyrical episode. The Mexican hall, with its playpen colors, added a level of Buñuelian surrealism.

The film then changed to the Concertgebouw the following year. I have always preferred this orchestra to the Vienna, but employing this celluloid evidence would be an unfair argument technique. For the Symphony No. 4, filmmaker Humphrey Burton shot in a much more professional manner and with infinitely superior equipment.

Robert Schumann called the Fourth the “fair maiden between two giants,” and Maestro Kleiber emphasized that pulchritude in a balanced and elegant rendition executed to perfection by the Concertgebouw — they were not yet “Royal” — Orchestra. Of note is his conducting technique, understated, confident, collegial, emotive but never showy. This was a superb performance, marred only by a minor, but quite audible, altercation in the Walter Reade audience.

Now that the Metropolitan and other opera companies are turning to the cinema to propagate a new fan base, the moviegoing experience is relevant to classical music. The snacking of the patrons brought to mind Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, where the Los Angeles Philharmonic used to perform. There was much talking during the show and an awful lot of comings and goings. In a format that presented a concert with an overture and two symphonies, it would have been easy enough for Lincoln Center staff to control the latecomers and their entrances, but they chose not to enforce proper decorum. Will this eventually lead to a breakdown of politeness and consideration for other listeners at Avery Fisher Hall?

The brochure, printed more than a year ago, announced that the final piece would be the Seventh Symphony from Amsterdam. In the process of preparing this montage, however, the series technicians unearthed a rare Mexican performance of the Fifth, and so showed it instead.

What a find! Kleiber whipped the Vienna Phil into a lather, exhaling an incredibly febrile performance of this most exciting and significant of symphonies. In close-up we could observe Kleiber conducting before the actual downbeat with tiny gestures hidden from the view of the live audience so that the fate motif would explode dramatically and in unison. Off to the races, Kleiber exploits that full Vienna sound to its apex, little flourishes, like the usage of older, rounded trumpets, contributing to the overall grandiloquence.

The Andante con moto was especially impressive, holy music offered in the most sacred of adoring performances. The poor quality of the television recording does challenge a bit, the pitch of the entire symphony artificially ratcheted up above A440, the normally lush Vienna fiddles a bit squeaky and thin. But the listener adjusts rather quickly and the mind and heart compensate for the damningly harsh evidence provided by the ear. Overall, this was a mesmerizing two hours. Is it too curmudgeonly to state that it was the finest concert that I heard in New York all season?

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Itzhak Perlman has been directing his own series this season at the Metropolitan Museum and he was back on Saturday evening for the final installment that played, as always, to a sold-out house. Mr. Perlman and his wife run a summer camp on Shelter Island for a select group of musicians between the ages of 12 and 18, and that has now expanded into a yearlong experience for these exceptionally talented aspirants. The concerts in New York have been chamber affairs but Mr. Perlman brought along the whole gang on Saturday.

With the stage already jammed with ticket holders, Mr. Perlman took up the remainder of the space with a full string orchestra plus harpsichord for the Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 of Bach. There are many rewards for this exceptional musician in working with young people, but one practical one is the availability of an entire ensemble with which he can practice his conducting, an area where he has been making inroads on the professional concert stage. It is invaluable to possess your own orchestra. Just ask Sir Thomas Beecham.

The unwritten law in our business is that one never criticizes children too harshly, but this precept is moot at a Perlman concert. Not only is this orchestra precise and enthusiastic, subtly colorful and dexterous, responsive and pliable, but the musicians actually seem to be enjoying themselves, a characteristic sorely lacking in their elders. Mr. Perlman is beginning to show a real conversance with the conductor’s art, nothing fancy or flashy, just pragmatic, helpful direction. He set a brisk pace for his charges, who responded with flawless bowing technique and well-constructed solo passagework. If there is a sad aspect to this joyous music making, it is the thought that there is not a professional orchestra in New York that currently plays this well.

Chamber music was also on tap this evening, an opportunity for the audience to enjoy that unique Perlman tone, cream rising to the top. With violinist David Lisker, violists Wei-Yang Andy Lin and A.J. Nilles, and cellist Tomoko Fujita, he led a lively and jocund Quintet in C major, K. 515, notable for a solid and balanced bottom and a rhythmic drive that never wavered. The final allegro was suitably merry, but in that signature dark way that was quintessentially Mozart.

The program ended with a solid presentation of the Piano Quintet of Robert Schumann. Here the musicians (David Kadouch, piano, Mr. Perlman and Giora Schmidt, violins, Laura Seay, viola, and Greg Kramer, cello) played the notes very well, but seemed to sacrifice a good bit of the music’s Romantic soul. Phrasing decisions were uniformly metronomic, not the sort of emotive manipulation that one associates with Itzhak Perlman. The enunciations were sometimes stilted and restricted, the anguish and loveliness that Schumann included not allowed to break through. This often happens in student performances, but should not. The famous violinist may have been guilty of playing the mother hen in this realization. Let them fly on their own, Mr. Perlman; you will be amazed at how high they can soar.