There’s a good reason why Moretz sounds so wise and level though. Moretz’s family relocated from Atlanta, where she was born, to New York City when the actress was just 5. (She only has a few memories of her brief Southern upbringing, like the cookies from Agan’s Bakery in Cartersville.) Her older brother, Trevor, had been studying acting at New York’s Professional Children’s School, when 5-year-old Chloë, after reciting monologues with Trevor, outed herself as the true pro in the family. He’s been her acting coach ever since, and her entire family—her mother, father, and four older brothers—has made her career a priority.

“It’s always been a group effort for all of us,” Moretz says. “Everyone rallied around me. My mom gave up her entire life to be my manager. I feel very lucky and blessed to have a family to court me like that—usually you don’t get that at a young age.” Wadlow echoes the importance of Moretz’s family, namely Trevor and her mother, Teri, who act as her managers: “Every great artist has a support system in place and Trevor and Teri Moretz are that for Chloë,” he says, while being sure to add that the teen’s levelheadedness is part of her character. “It’s just who she is—some people are seduced by the glitz, but she’s not into the nonsense and BS.”

With part of the family in NYC full-time, Moretz’s auditions quickly turned into actual parts—a two-episode stint on CBS’s The Guardian, a small role in Big Momma’s House 2, and a part in the 2005 remake of The Amityville Horror that earned her a nomination at the Young Artist Awards. In no time, Moretz was calling the bad guys “cunts” in Kick-Ass. She had truly arrived.

And that was over a decade ago. It’s gotta be somewhat weird to live most of your life in front of a camera. Moretz was acting before she can remember. “It’s mind-boggling,” she says. “Big Momma’s House 2 was on TV one night and I was like, ‘Oh my god.’” There’s also that matter of identity. Imagine spending most of your life—and all of your self-aware life—pretending to be other people. In that mess of going from embodying a murderous preteen hell-bent on revenge to a young prostitute, there’s not much time for any real self-discovery. More than memorizing lines or overcoming the anxiety of acting in front of Scorsese’s lens, that’s what tests Moretz the most: “It’s an ever-changing battle to figure out who you are in all of this, trying to put yourself in the characters.”