Perhaps it makes sense that a woman whose earliest memory was on the set of Apocalypse Now would grow up to direct a dark fable about five adolescent girls who unapologetically and unceremoniously kill themselves, but for Sofia Coppola, the path to the director’s chair was an uncertain one.

Literally christened into a filmmaking career, the third child and only daughter of Francis Ford and Eleanor Coppola was born in Manhattan in the spring of 1971, during the production of her father’s masterpiece, The Godfather. When it came time to shoot the baptism scene near the end of the film, the elder Coppola didn’t have to look very far for an infant, and the epic became the impromptu actress’ first, uncredited role. He found another bit part for the tiny Sofia in The Godfather Part II before her memorable experience on the tumultuous set of Apocalypse, as recorded in Eleanor’s 1991 documentary of the making of the film, Hearts of Darkness: A Filmmaker’s Apocalypse.

Coppola continued to pop up in her father’s films in the early ‘80s and even ventured outside of the clan for a spot in 1987’s Anna. It wasn’t until father and daughter collaborated on a segment in the 1989 anthology film New York Stories, however, that Sofia began to attract critical attention—albeit of a disparaging ilk. She and Francis co-wrote the half-hour children’s fantasy Life Without Zoe in an attempt to evoke the glamorous, candy-colored world of the classic Eloise children’s tales. In her dual role as costume designer, the 17-year-old swathed the film’s lead characters in lavish designer jewelry and threads.

Coppola recoiled from Hollywood, entering the fine arts program at the California Institute of the Arts. There she began to nurture her interests in photography as well as costuming and experimented with video shorts. As their first post-graduate effort, she and some friends created the TV series High Octane, an offbeat news magazine on cable’s Comedy Central network. The show was discontinued in 1994 after just four episodes, and Coppola continued to work on her brother’s projects, primarily music videos. Around this time, Coppola read Jeffrey Eugenides’ 1993 novel The Virgin Suicides and was captivated by its dark, haunting take of adolescent sexuality. More significantly, she relished the challenge of translating the fervid, pubescent-male viewpoint of the book to the big screen, and she began writing her own screen adaptation of the text. Coppola was undaunted when she found that the rights to the book were already secured by Muse Productions, whose script was much more violent and overtly sexual than hers. Impressed with her work, Muse scrapped their version and backed Coppola.