ALOT OF Harvard writers are, well, if not trend-makers, then at least trend-breakers, and William Rubenstein is no exception. His original "stagefilm," Aromarama: For Motion Sickness certainly transcends conventional definitions of what makes good theater. In fact, one leaves the show wondering what makes it theater at all.

Judging from the playbill, Aromarama is a pastiche of slides and sound satirizing box-office biggies from The Guns of Navarone to The Godfather, strung together by skits parodying disaster films. But the idea of L.A. smothered by 2000 feet of waste just doesn't make it, nor does the last-ditch seduction scene of a photographer on the eve of the city's destruction: "Please photograph me. I mean, I know we're not going to have time to develop."

The meat of the production is a series of slides ranging from landscapes to ex-mayor Lindsay, all taken by the globe-tripping author. The bulk of the segments have curiously little to do with the parodies. But if Rubenstein's strength does not lie in his humor, he is an impressive photographer, lulling his audience with stirring images and provocative music.

The format of Aromarama--a joke here, some slides there--just doesn't hang together. The production is a confusing forum for Rubenstein's dilettantish fancies. It's a good thing his photographic forte is the centerpiece.