The old version of this page opened by explaining that its author had only just heard of the performer, and concluded from that fact that she was on her way up.
Read that sequence twice, because it is the whole mechanism. Somebody encountered a working professional for the first time, experienced the encounter as novelty, and published the novelty as a stage in her career. It is the most common claim in entertainment writing of every kind, and it is a statement about the writer's attention that has been wearing the costume of industry analysis for decades.
The trajectory claim is not checkable
Suppose you wanted to establish that somebody's career was ascending. You would need bookings over time, rates, contract terms, distribution deals, what the direct-to-fan side is doing — the things that constitute a career and are almost entirely private. None of that is available to somebody writing up scenes they watched last week.
What is available is search rank, and search rank is a measure of upload promotion. A performer whose scenes are being pushed by tubes looks ascendant from the outside whether or not a single thing has changed in her working life, and a performer at the peak of her bookings can be invisible in that layer if her work sits behind a paywall where it belongs.
So the claim is unfalsifiable in both directions, which is exactly why it is so comfortable to make.
Then the page stops moving and the person does not
Here is the part that turns a harmless bit of enthusiasm into a real problem: web archives do not expire, and the dateline is the least visible element on a page. A search result shows a title and a description. It does not shout that the description was accurate for a fortnight in 2020.
Every time-indexed word in an old article silently converts into a false statement — rising, currently, newest, her latest, you'll be seeing more of her. Not one character changes. The sentence simply stops being true and carries on being served, and the reader has no cue that it is a photograph rather than a window.
Careers in this industry are frequently short, and frequently ended on purpose. People retire. People leave for a different line of work entirely and would prefer not to be introduced as a starlet on the rise. People move to platforms they control, change working names, or step back and ask to be left alone. A page that promises a reader they will be seeing much more of somebody is making a commitment about a stranger's future labour that she never agreed to.
The one honest thing the original did
It gave itself away. The piece was written in the first weeks of the pandemic and said so, in an aside about staying in. That timestamp is the only reason a reader in the present can tell at a glance that they are looking at an old page.
Most writing of this kind is careful to sound timeless, which is worse. An article that mentions no year and describes a career in the present tense will read as current forever. If you are going to write about a moving subject, being conspicuously stuck to your own moment is a service to the reader, not a flaw.
What to do with a question about now
If the question is what someone is doing at present, there is exactly one class of source: things the person is currently publishing. A verified account, an active subscription page, a recent interview with a date on it. Those are current by construction, because they stop being updated when the person stops updating them, and an empty feed is itself an answer.
If the question is what someone has done, that is a different question with a better answer — release-indexed catalogues, which do not go stale because they were never making a claim about the present in the first place. Splitting those two questions apart is most of the discipline. Almost every wrong sentence in this genre comes from answering the second and presenting it as the first.
Why the list did not come back
It was a set of tube copies with plot summaries. None of them could be located, none could be matched to a release, and "best work" was never established by anything beyond the writer having enjoyed those particular files that week.
This version makes no claim about where the performer's career stood in 2020, and none about where it stands now, because neither could be sourced and because the second one is not the sort of thing a page like this should be guessing about anyway.