Once upon a time, the Boston Symphony Orchestra was known as an outstanding”French” orchestra. That was because it was led by Charles Munch, the grand Frenchman who died in 1968. And the Boston players excelled in this repertoire. Similarly, the Detroit Symphony Orchestra, under Paul Paray, was known as a “French” orchestra.

Well, forgetting the DSO, how does the BSO fare now? They are led by James Levine, the all-purpose conductor from Cincinnati. And they played an all-Ravel concert in Carnegie Hall on Monday night.

The BSO began with “Alborada del gracioso,” drawn from Ravel’s piano suite “Miroirs.” Mr. Levine had the orchestra playing robustly, and not prettily, which was fine. There was a rare vinegar in this performance. But it was also somewhat crude, and not terribly French. The music needed more shimmer, and more mystery. Besides which, the orchestra’s pizzicatos were shaky.

You can credit Mr. Levine for not wanting to make his Ravel dainty or precious – but you can go too far in the other direction. Almost never is Mr. Levine so ham-handed and blunt. It must be said, however, that the wacked out ending of “Alborada del gracioso” was effective.

Next on the program was Ravel’s pavane — that is, his “Pavane for a Dead Princess.” Here, Mr. Levine was again surprising, and not in a positive way. The piece was quite slow, which is not offensive or wrong. But it was also flaccid. It needed more of a pulse, being a dance, after all. It is a particular kind of dance — a pavane for a dead princess. But still a dance.

As in the first piece, the orchestra was a little shaky — not quite accurate, not quite composed. The French horn suffered some glitches. But the oboe played beautifully, seamlessly.

By the way, am I the only one who prefers Ravel’s “Pavane” in its original piano form? Orchestration does not always equal enhancement.

Speaking of the piano, Jean-Yves Thibaudet came out to play Ravel’s Concerto in G major, one of his two. And the first movement was very odd: Conductor and pianist were often not together. And much of this movement was rushed and unenjoyed. There was almost an angry, punishing quality to it. And the orchestra was noisy and crass, almost completely lacking in refinement.

This was shocking.

But Mr. Thibaudet, in isolation? A critic simply runs out of words: In technique, style, musicianship — he is a paragon. This is true even when his conductor is having a funny night. To mention a specific: Mr. Thibaudet applied just the right amount of jazz, or blues, to this first movement. He didn’t overdo it and he didn’t underdo it. This is taste.

For the second movement — Adagio assai — Mr. Thibaudet chose a good, breathable tempo. Often, this music is too slow. In addition, Mr. Thibaudet showed us how to sing on a keyboard. Notes don’t die in his hands, when he doesn’t want them to.

It is possible to play this movement more hynotizingly — Mr. Thibaudet has. And his long, slow trill at the end wasn’t his very best — it wasn’t that slow, for one thing. But it was more than adequate.

Ravel’s concerto ends with a toccata, and it was terrific. It was lightning fast, wizardly, hell-bent. But it would have had a greater impact if the first movement had been more moderate. Also, the orchestra was messy, and again not together with the pianist. Mr. Levine kept looking at Mr. Thibaudet, in an attempt to coordinate. But things did not quite work out.

On the second half of the concert, Mr. Levine conducted “Daphnis et Chloé” — the whole ballet. As before, he was not particularly French. Much of the score was brawny, and at times you might have been listening to Beethoven. Occasionally, we wanted more delicacy, more froth — and more of that Ravelian shimmer. But Mr. Levine was entirely musical and convincing.

And the orchestra, as a whole, was solid. There were some slips, but these were inconsequential. As in the French repertoire at large, the woodwinds get a workout in “Daphnis et Chloé” — and the BSO’s came through. The flute, in particular, was top-notch. Elsewhere, the horn played beautifully, even angelically. And the concert-mistress floated some lovely, unaffected sounds.

Doing the singing was the Tanglewood Festival Chorus — technically poised, and expressively aware.

Mr. Levine calibrated this score wisely, giving us a panoramic, united “D&C.” He injected the ending with something like danger, which was thrilling. Usually, you hear just a suite from this ballet. But Mr. Levine wanted us to have the whole thing. Maybe, next time, he’ll arrange for some dancers?