Today, horror fans in select cities across America can rejoice in watching Tusk, the latest from our favorite dirty-older-brother auteur, Kevin Smith. Yes, the use of "rejoice" in the context of watching a man, played by Justin Long, taken prisoner, cut apart and put back together as a walrus is intentional. How could you say that, you sick fool?! you ask. The answer is this: Because Smith, now in the third act of his career as an indie film icon, looks like he's having more fun than ever.

Horror movies carry a stigma. If you're revealed to be a devout fan of the genre, and you don't look like you live in a hole, it's common to get this reaction: "Really? I wouldn't have guessed that about you." Guessed, what, exactly? That I like to dance with the devil in the pale moonlight every now and again? That I like to sit in a dark theater feeling trapped inside my mind like it's a mirrored hall of terror? Or that I like to watch filmmakers push the limits of imagination to elicit visceral responses from audiences? What's wrong with enjoying that? When it's at its best (or worst) such thrills are what horror is all about, and the writers and directors who do it well are by no means hacks. It's been two decades since Smith shook up Sundance with Clerks, but he's figured out this misunderstood and stigmatized genre may be where he belongs—and by slipping off his Devils jersey and diving naked into the waters of scare cinema, the writer-director has put a jolt into his movies that's been missing a long time. Other filmmakers should learn from his willingness to shift genres.

After Dogma landed in 1999, Smith's creative field sat fallow. (Let's face it: We loved Jay and Silent Bob, but it was just fan wish fulfillment.) Smith kept making movies into the 2000s, but they were flicks like Jersey Girl and Cop Out—not the best of his career. Zack and Miri Make a Porno was quite charming and got less attention than it deserved, but it was Smith playing it safe, humoring us with blue humor while sneaking in a raunchy yet surprisingly tender love story. It was fun, but we'd already seen Chasing Amy.

Then came 2011 and Red State. The movie, about a group of teen boys looking for easy sex who end up in a Christian fundamentalist compound where blood sacrifice is preferred to sipping red wine, wasn't Smith's best, but it was a plenty gripping thriller. And it was interesting. Smith proved he had some creative juice in the tank, that he was capable of eliciting more than chuckles, and his movies could feel urgent again.

The horror comedy Tusk promises an even more twisted look into the darker folds of Smith's brain. Even if you're not into weird gore movies, his bold move deserves respect, and seeing a new creative facet of an artist we love is exciting. Imagine if Wes Anderson, who's been making movies about construction paper cut-outs and hands since 1994's Rushmore, actually did make The Midnight Coterie of Sinister Intruders. You say Saturday Night Live sketch, we say opportunity! Surely a selection of Anderson fans would sob tiny, pastel tears seeing a red-band trailer for his new home invasion film, but watching his movies would feel less like homework for kids who go to Brown.

Or take Woody Allen. He hasn't gone straight-up horror, but since 2005 he's set just one film in New York, and four of his top-10 grossing pictures came out in that span. And what kicked off that reinvigorated run? The eerie drama Match Point, a modern telling of Fyodor Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment. When Match Point hit, Allen felt relevant again, like he had something new to say, and the movie had a sinister electricity previously absent in Allen films. Allen always will have ideas—he's got a new one every year—but this one felt unique, and we'd be more than open to a needling psychological thriller from New York's favorite anxious son.

There's an unfortunate notion that horror is something actors and directors might start with, then quickly leave behind. Throw a rock at the Oscars and you'll hit an A-lister who paid his or her dues covered in blood and gore. But we're here to issue a challenge: It's time to strip the stigma, Hollywood, and start celebrating scary movies as an outlet for our most celebrated talents. Peter Jackson started his career in horror, and to this day Dead Alive and Heavenly Creatures remain two of his best films. For 13 years we've lived with him in Middle-earth, with brief breaks for King Kong (yikes) and The Lovely Bones, and wethinks it's time to shake the terror tree again and see what falls out. And recent acclaimed fright fests like Sinister, Insidious, and The Conjuring (double high five for James Wan and Patrick Wilson!) demonstrate that critics and audiences alike crave deep scares from screenplays that require actors to effectively, you know, act, instead of just run around screaming.

And we can't leave without giving special acknowledgment to horror's most cuddly looking grandfather figure: Guillermo del Toro. He hasn't left his Cronos and Mimic fans in the rearview just because Hellboy and Pacific Rim came calling. Sprinkled between fantasy films, del Toro still brings the cringe with projects like Pan's Labyrinth, TV's The Strain, and the upcoming Crimson Peak, which features the incredibly talented lineup of Charlie Hunnam, Tom Hiddleston, Jessica Chastain, and Mia Wasikowska. Filmmakers: Follow this man's lead. He gets it.

So let us now say: We salute you, Kevin Smith. Your movies fell into a rut and instead of cashing in on the same old schtick because Smodcast fans will follow you anywhere, you took a gamble and gave audiences a new part of yourself to consider, and appreciate. Going the hard R gross-out terror route might not be the most populist choice, but we're glad you did. Perhaps it can inspire the directorial brain trust out there to stop yawning through the same old same old and give us something different—or at least something totally screwed up.