The creepiest of all vampire films -- the one that can paralyze a viewer with dread -- is, remarkably, also one of the earliest.  F.W. Murnau's silent adaptation of Bram Stoker's Dracula doesn't gussy up its bloodsucking antihero in a tux and hari pomade, a la Bela Lugosi.   Instead, Count Oriok (Max Schreck) is a bald, ratlike, cadaverous monster -- and still he exerts an unnerving erotic pull.  Unfolding with the inarguability of a dream, Nosferatu presents Death as the ultimate lover with high style and no illusions:  In a very real way, it's the missing link between 19th-century gothic and late-20th-century Goth.