All 10 Best Chloë Grace Moretz Movies Ranked (Best to Worst)

Martin Scorsese’s steampunk-tinted love letter to Georges Méliès operates as an exquisite museum of cinematic wonder. Set amid the clockwork corridors of 1930s Paris, the film balances lavish visual architecture with a tender, melancholic ache for forgotten art. Its meticulous technical mastery earned five Academy Awards, yet the picture never loses its intimate, human-scale magic. As Isabelle, the bookish goddaughter of Méliès, Moretz supplies an irrepressible spark of book-smart adventure. Pairing naturally with Asa Butterfield, she navigates the film’s literary elegance with crisp charm and an uncanny emotional maturity, proving she could anchor an ambitious, high-budget auteur piece with effortless grace.

Matthew Vaughn’s boundary-smashing action comedy ripped up the comic-book playbook, splicing hyper-violent slapstick with biting pop-culture satire. While Aaron Taylor-Johnson anchors the titular schlub, the narrative crackles to life only when Vaughn unleashes the film's foul-mouthed vigilante duo. Its candy-colored choreography and nihilistic adrenaline established a fresh benchmark for subversive superhero cinema. The undisputed nucleus of this chaos is Moretz’s Hit-Girl, a ballistic tour-de-force that catapulted her into international stardom. She handles dizzying ballets of gunfire and blade-work with chilling deadpan precision, injecting ferocious swagger and surprising vulnerability into an eleven-year-old assassin that remains one of modern genre cinema's indelible creations.

Adapted from ND Stevenson’s graphic novel, this kinetic, queer-coded sci-fi fantasy challenges institutional prejudice with anarchic visual bravura. Directed by Nick Bruno and Troy Quane, the film blends futuristic medievalism with sharp cell-shaded aesthetics, delivering a poignant allegorical punch about identity, villainy, and acceptance. What could have been standard animation instead becomes a subversive, emotionally layered riot. Moretz’s vocal turn in the title role is an absolute triumph of voice acting. She imbues the chaotic, shape-shifting shapeshifter with equal parts punk-rock volatility and gut-wrenching vulnerability. Her breathless line deliveries and comedic timing elevate Nimona into an electrifying outsider anthem, cementing one of her finest modern roles.

Marc Webb’s non-linear romantic autopsy fundamentally challenged the manic-pixie-dream-girl fantasy, dissecting young male delusion with split-screen irony and a razor-sharp script. Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s heartbroken Tom projects impossible ideals onto Zooey Deschanel’s Summer, while Webb deconstructs how nostalgia warps genuine emotional reality. It remains a watershed indie touchstone of late-2000s American cinema. Stepping in as Tom’s younger half-sister Rachel, Moretz steals every frame she inhabits. Operating as the film’s pragmatic moral compass, she provides unvarnished, clear-eyed relationship advice that punctures her brother’s romanticized self-pity. Despite limited screentime, Moretz demonstrated comic timing and world-weary perceptiveness far beyond her tender years.

Antoine Fuqua’s gritty action-thriller reimagines classic vigilante mythology with brutal, tactical efficiency. Anchored by Denzel Washington’s measured gravitas, the picture thrives on deliberate pacing, neon-lit Boston streetscapes, and bone-crunching choreography that pits a quiet loner against Russian organized crime. It is a satisfying, visceral exercise in kinetic retribution. Moretz appears as Alina (Teri), an exploited sex worker whose mistreatment sparks McCall’s violent awakening. Though her physical screen presence is brief, she gives the story its indispensable human heartbeat. Moretz imbues Teri with bruised innocence and shattered optimism, making her fleeting conversations with Washington resonate with genuine warmth and providing the moral engine for the film's escalating warfare.

R.J. Cutler’s adaptation of Gayle Forman’s bestselling YA novel avoids standard melodrama by treating classical music and teenage devotion with earnest sincerity. Trapped in a liminal coma following a catastrophic car accident, cellist Mia must choose between waking up to an orphaned existence or letting go. The film glides smoothly between sun-drenched flashbacks of artistic awakening and the stark antiseptic tension of an ICU ward. Moretz carries the emotional heft of the entire production on her shoulders. Her portrayal of Mia avoids cloying sentimentality, capturing the physical discipline of a musician alongside the visceral paralysis of unimaginable grief. She elevates what could be formulaic weepie territory into poignant drama.

Jeff Wadlow’s sequel trades the sleek, shocking novelty of the original for a heavier, meaner narrative that struggles to balance teenage identity struggles with cartoonish violence. While the vigilante ensemble expands with colorful misfits, the tonal dissonance between juvenile shock humor and dark thematic turns keeps the sequel from reaching its predecessor's heights. Yet, Moretz’s return as Mindy McCready provides the film’s saving grace. Navigating the hostile terrain of high school cliques while fighting the urge to don Hit-Girl’s purple wig, she injects grounded emotional reality into an otherwise cartoonish sandbox. Her fierce presence proves that her magnetic portrayal of Mindy could elevate even inconsistent material.

Tim Burton’s gothic soap-opera adaptation luxuriates in opulent 1970s aesthetics, macabre production design, and Danny Elfman’s moody orchestration. Johnny Depp’s awakened vampire Barnabas Collins provides eccentric slapstick against Maine's misty fishing shores, yet the script meanders aimlessly across contradictory tones and undercooked subplots. The lavish gothic humor never quite finds a cohesive narrative pulse. Moretz plays Carolyn Stoddard, a sullen, counter-culture Collins teen who hides a bizarre supernatural secret. Armed with deadpan glares and disdain for her eccentric household, Moretz nails the rebellious 70s angst with natural poise, even if the film's frenetic final act squanders her character in an unearned werewolf twist.

Kimberly Peirce’s 2013 reimagining of Stephen King’s high-school horror classic updates the legendary prom tragedy with modern cyberbullying mechanics and explosive digital effects. Julianne Moore brings unnerving religious fervor to Margaret White, but the production often retreads Brian De Palma’s 1976 masterclass beat-for-beat without cultivating its predecessor’s dread or claustrophobic tension. Moretz tackles the titular telekinetic outsider with admirable commitment and unvarnished emotional distress. However, her inherent charisma and poise work against the script, making it difficult to fully buy her as an awkward, repulsive pariah. She shines brightest during the climactic, blood-soaked fury, displaying formidable physical intensity even as the film falters around her.

J Blakeson’s post-apocalyptic thriller arrived at the tail end of Hollywood’s young-adult dystopian boom, delivering a rushed pastiche of alien-invasion tropes. While the opening sequence effectively illustrates civilization's rapid collapse through devastating planetary catastrophes, the story swiftly descends into convoluted military twists and a listless love triangle that drains the apocalyptic stakes of genuine suspense. Thrust into the center as survivor Cassie Sullivan, Moretz works overtime to inject emotional truth into a paper-thin screenplay. Her survivalist determination and raw grit give the film brief flashes of grounded urgency, but the derivative worldbuilding and formulaic dialogue ultimately trap a talented actor in a failed franchise starter.