Broken Frontier

I am seriously in love.

Daisy Kutter is sitting in the general store she owns, watching the grandfather clock across the room count down the minutes of her life. The relentless ticking is enough to drive anyone mad. After a while, she drapes a shirt over the damn thing. But that doesn’t relieve her boredom. While the reader might see the irony of the sign that hangs in the deserted store - “We Reserve the Right to Refuse Service to Anyone” - Daisy is oblivious to the joke.

She sweeps the store, which takes all of two panels, then starts shooting darts at various targets. For a while, Daisy is occupied and almost happy. But after everything from jars of olives to defenseless garden gnomes have been pelted in a hail of plastic and rubber, she’s back where she started: bored out of her mind.

Daisy used to be a criminal mastermind, able to shoot down 16 supply frigates over the Adriatic Sea in two minutes and twenty seconds. But since the day she quit, she’s been waiting for the rest of her life to begin. In “Daisy Kutter: The Last Train”, it does.

I’ve always admired strong female characters. I have seven seasons of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and three of “Alias” on DVD. I’ve bought all 18 of Sue Grafton’s novels starring Kinsey Milhone, even though I don’t actually like mysteries. I love watching Carrie-Anne Moss kick serious butt in “The Matrix” and Jessica Biel destroy vampires in “Blade: Trinity”. Hell, I still have very fond memories of watching Jaime Somers fighting the Fembots on “The Bionic Woman”.

Unfortunately, comic books have never been known for portraying strong women.

Since the introduction of Wonder Woman, a barely disguised tribute to bondage and porn, females have consistently been portrayed as sexual fantasies. Men with superpowers always have enormous muscles, but they usually have no genitalia (Ken dolls have more of a package then your average good guy) and they dress in full bodysuits that cover everything but their hands and face. Women invariably have breasts the size of a small country, butts that would make Jennifer Lopez jealous, and waists smaller than a Republican’s morals. And forget about protective clothing. Comic book women lose their clothes faster than Britney Spears at a keg party. The minute a female discovers she’s got special powers, she gets a major boob job and starts dressing in bathing suits and fishnet stockings.

I have to laugh when publishers complain about the lack of female readers. Marvel’s inspired idea for increasing the audience was to create a series about a teen-age Emma Frost that girls could identify with. But then they commissioned covers of a woman with her tits popping out of her costume, posed in a manner that would embarrass a Playboy centerfold. Hello?  Is anyone there?

Defining women as sexual fantasies in latex and boots has always been one of the major flaws of comic books. There’s no logical way to justify it. Superman doesn’t go around with a bare chest and a thong that barely covers his enormous manhood. Wolverine isn’t known for his tight ass and his frequently exposed belly button. Yet no one blinks twice when Starfire, an alien warrior, wears body armor that barely covers her nipples (and leaves most of her amazing body completely exposed).

There are many great female characters out there. But unless you pick up a copy of “Runaways” or “The Losers”, you’ll have a hard time finding one in comic books. Women aren’t supposed to be strong in the superhero universe. They’re just meant to look hot.

But a couple weeks ago, I got a trade paperback digest called “Daisy Kutter: The Last Train” from Viper Comics, a publisher located in Irving, Texas. I’ve read it three times so far. And I am praying that Kazu Kibuishi will write more stories about Daisy. Like I said earlier, I am seriously in love with her.

Daisy lives in a town that’s a cross between “Deadwood” (without the cursing) and “I Robot” (without the Will Smith). She carries a rifle two feet taller than she is, hates working with robots, and loves a good game of poker. She dresses in a trench coat, beats up any guy who tries to kiss her (especially when the man in question is the only person she’s ever loved), and she’s easily the best female character to pop up since Sydney Bristow first put on a neon wig and kicked major bad guy butt.

The first issue alone is a primer on how to write an extraordinary series. We learn almost immediately that Daisy isn’t someone to be trifled with, but she’s also got a great sense of humor, a wicked competitive streak, and curls that even rain can’t tame. Tom, the love of her life, is now the sheriff of the town, and while she despises his decision to go “over to the dark side” by being a good guy, it’s obvious she still loves him.

We also meet Morris and Bloom, who offer Daisy an enormous amount of money (600,000 lugs) to get back into the business of robbing trains. We learn the basic rules of Texas Hold ‘Em, a poker game that is easy to explain but incredibly difficult to master. We visit Shelly’s Tavern, home of a poker tournament that ends up being surprisingly suspenseful. We watch breathlessly as Daisy bets everything she owns (including ownership of her store) on three aces and a prayer. And we are introduced to Mr. Winters, the enigmatic businessman who may or may not be the deadliest (and dorkiest) villain of all time.

We know right from the start what’s going to happen. Daisy will be persuaded to take one final mission.  Her one-time love will be there to help her. It will be a simple robbery, quick and professional, up until the moment when everything completely falls apart. There will be blood and betrayal, promises left unspoken and villains revealed, action, excitement, and drama galore.

But who could have imagined it would be so much fun?

Kibuishi has created one of the most brilliant debuts I’ve ever read. The narrative is light-hearted and fun, with just enough darkness to keep you turning pages. The artwork reminds me of everything from the comics page of the local newspaper to the Saturday morning cartoons that used to be worth waiting an entire week for. Kibuishi doesn’t use color, preferring rich gray tones instead, so even the price is an unbelievable $10.95.  In case you’re wondering, that includes 149 pages of story and 35 pages of extra material.

“Daisy Kutter: The Last Train” does suffer from a couple of problems. The book centers around a train robbery, but the robbery itself makes no sense. Don’t get me wrong; it’s an incredible sequence that basically takes up the entire third issue. There’s action and adventure, friends dying, threats revealed, and angry robots with “security” billboards popping out their heads trying to kill Ms. Kutter at every turn. But it doesn’t make sense. Daisy runs through the train, manages to flip herself onto the roof, then runs back the entire length of the train to end up exactly where she started. I can hear Homer Simpson saying, “D’oh!” in the back of my mind.

The final confrontation is also confusing. There’s no logical explanation for why the bad guy went to such exorbitant and unnecessary lengths to kill Daisy. There’s no rational reason why he didn’t shoot her immediately, instead of hiding in a robot that can shoot two thousand bullets a second (bullets that don’t come anywhere close to the target unless the script calls for it).

It’s like that typical moment in Bond movies and Batman reruns when the villain says, “In three minutes, you will be devoured by alligators, cut to shreds by a million razor blades, destroyed by battery acid, and eaten alive by man-eating fleas. But since there’s an auction on Ebay that’s ending in two minutes, and I’ve been looking for that obscure Meatloaf CD for months now, I’m going to leave you alone to die in horrible pain. And because I have no doubt you will perish, I won’t bother leaving any henchmen or goons to guard you.”

But in all honesty, the train robbery and the final confrontation don’t change my opinion of the book at all. Daisy Kutter is such a wonderful creation, it’s somewhat beside the point to question the logistics. I knew before I opened the book that Daisy would ultimately triumph. I knew before I finished the book that I would be anxiously waiting for a sequel.

I’m not going to suggest that all females in comic books should start wearing costumes designed more for fighting crime than encouraging one-handed fantasies. I’ll save those particular arguments for another day. But it is nice when, every now and then, a writer and artist as amazingly talented as Kibuishi introduces us to a character that reminds us just how fantastic comic books can be. Daisy Kutter is a gift. She’s an incredibly likeable character that is never diminished or belittled because she’s a woman. No matter how hard you look, you won’t find a bikini or fishnet stockings on Daisy. This is a series for men, not prepubescent children.

It’s nice to be so excited about a comic book. It’s even nicer to be seriously in love again.

Thank you, Kazu Kibuishi.

- Tommy Marx