Although Daniel rose to fame thanks to Sherlock Holmes, he wasn't limited to that role—he could definitely play others.
After all, in his previous life, Benedict Cumberbatch went on to play Doctor Strange in the Marvel universe. If Doctor Strange had returned to the Sherlock Holmes set with all his powers, the detective series might have turned into a fantasy film.
Thinking of that, Edward had Zoroark call Daniel to check his current availability.
With the popularity of Sherlock Holmes Season 2, Daniel's name was everywhere—mostly tied to ads, public service campaigns, and promotional tours. It was rare to see him otherwise.
Many variety shows were eager to invite Daniel to appear—after all, the actor playing Sherlock Holmes was a massive draw, especially during this golden moment when the series was dominating television. Daniel's fans were desperate for any chance to see their idol, but he refused all invitations.
That wasn't just his agent's decision—Daniel himself felt strongly about it.
"There's a clear difference between a variety show personality and a serious actor. Great actors rarely appear on variety shows—they want to maintain some distance from the audience, which helps them shine in their performances."
That was Daniel's belief, and Edward agreed. Sure, variety show stars could gain huge popularity, sometimes even more than traditional actors, but the distinction was still there.
In the entertainment industry's unspoken hierarchy, film actors usually looked down on variety show personalities. Even the most famous variety stars tended to hold a lower status at industry events compared to actors.
"Boss, Daniel says he doesn't have any openings at the moment," Zoroark said, covering the phone. Edward nodded and asked him to send Daniel the script for Buried first. He could read it and decide whether he wanted to take the role—if not, Edward would simply find someone else.
There was, for example, the recent champion of The Thousand Actors Showdown. His performance in the finals—pretending to eat noodles while watching a play with no props—stunned the audience. He ended up taking first place and was now a rising B list celebrity. Once his film performed well, he'd likely enter the ranks of A list stars.
But as for whether Daniel would accept the role, Edward felt pretty confident. Daniel had real ambition as an actor. During the production of Sherlock Holmes Season 2, Daniel often requested reshoots when he wasn't satisfied with his performance—and his acting had genuinely improved as a result.
This was what Edward appreciated the most.
Perhaps because of the setbacks and long period of obscurity in his past, Daniel had developed a grounded mindset. Even now, with his fame skyrocketing, he hadn't let it go to his head—he was still moving forward in the industry one steady step at a time.
After a while, Edward's phone rang—it was Daniel. He sounded excited and immediately expressed his desire to play the lead role in Buried.
Edward didn't say much in return—just told him to catch a flight over. He planned to shoot Buried right there at the Kanto filming site.
"Boss, are you sure it's okay to shoot two films at once?" Zoroark asked nervously.
Edward shook his head. "Of course it's fine."
Compared to Alien, Buried had a much smaller workload. The entire film focused almost entirely on the buried protagonist. The emotional arc relied heavily on the lead actor's performance and voice interactions—through phone calls—to build a slow-burn sense of despair and suffocation.
If viewers could get into the movie, it would feel deeply oppressive, like watching someone die slowly.
"Buried is short and small in scale. The script requires very few sets, and most of the screen time is just Daniel's solo performance. It'll be a fast shoot," Edward said calmly.
In his previous life, the original Buried took just over two weeks to film. It was a short and intense project, completely unlike Alien, which might take a month or two to finish.
Buried was easy—just set up a set, have Daniel lie down, and start rolling.
It wouldn't affect Alien's production at all.
In fact, there were some incredibly talented directors who could shoot one film and edit it into two separate ones. Legends.
Edward hadn't reached that level yet, especially since Alien and Buried were two completely different genres—Alien being sci-fi horror and Buried more of a psychological thriller.
"But thankfully Buried has some horror elements too," Edward thought. "Maybe I'll earn some Fear Points from it."
Still, there was one thing that bothered him: the issue of film awards.
It was like playing basketball and never winning a championship ring, or being a soccer star who never took home the World Cup. No matter how skilled you were, there would always be people using that to discredit you.
Edward didn't really care about fame—he had money and influence. But some people would always latch onto those superficial things to attack him. Once or twice, it was fine. But after too many times, it became genuinely annoying.
So Edward made up his mind: he had to shoot an awards-worthy film and win something—anything—just so he wouldn't have to keep addressing the same tired criticism over and over again.
"What kind of film could win an award?" Edward rubbed his chin in thought.
The film industry produced countless movies each year, but only a small portion ever made it to theaters. Most of those were commercial flicks—or worse, money-laundering projects masquerading as cinema.
But there was also a subset of films created specifically to compete for awards. These were often rarely screened in theaters, and even when they were, their box office returns couldn't compete with mainstream blockbusters. These films were more niche—art-house films, basically. Rare, but not nonexistent.
The Pokémon world also had its own film awards. The most prestigious of them all was the Pokémon League Awards. Competition for the Best Picture nomination was always intense.
Edward was currently struggling to figure out what kind of film to make for the award circuit.
In his previous life, he had seen many award ceremonies—most notably the Oscars. But he knew exactly what the Oscars had become.
At first, they were fair, rewarding truly excellent films. But over time, it had turned into a contest of politics—measuring who had the strongest "magic resistance" to public backlash.
(End of Chapter)