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Why Do the English Hate the French?

It's practically a fact of life here in England, like rain half the summer, painfully congested Tube traffic, and conversations about the weather: The English hate the French.

They've written songs about this centuries-long enmity "“ like Rowan Atkinson's 1980 Live in Belfast comedy show, which included a performance of the plainly titled "I Hate the French," they've dedicated articles and blogs to the topic, and they've even published books on the subject.

Even, of course, if most English people don't actually hate the French. Some of them love the French, renounce their Englishness, and go spend a year (or years) in Provence, then write books about it.

In any case, a few years ago, the Telegraph put together a list of 30 reasons why the English hate the French, which was handy, but a bit cheeky "“ after all, there's got to be more to Anglo-Franco antagonism than the fact that the French bathe less than the English (and many other nations), don't change their underwear everyday, and wear silly flat hats. So, with the Telegraph as a jumping off place, we've come up with a few more answers to the question why the English hate the French.

Because they're always fighting

It all started back in 1066, when William the Conqueror "“ the one that was so fat he couldn't ride his horse, so then he went on an all-liquid (read: liquor) diet "“ trounced the Anglo-Saxons at the Battle of Hastings. Armed with some relatively spurious claims to the English throne and a force of more than 15,000 infantry, cavalry, and archers, William, Duke of Normandy, won the throne and engendered a long line of nobility and rulers, and, of course, a bitter rivalry between the proto-English isle and the Continental French.

In the early years, the Norman kingdom was somewhat confused: Anglo-Saxons led by French-Norman nobility, even Richard the Lionheart, prototypical "English" medieval king, spoke mostly French and spent most of his time in France. Subsequent to the Norman Conquest, the Normans and the Anglo-Saxons essentially merged to become a rather new culture "“ even the French and the Anglo-Saxon languages combined, then became something different all together "“ the precursor to modern English (this could be why the English call zucchinis "courgettes" and eggplants "aubergines").

But despite their Frenchy origins, the new(ish) Norman kingdom was created as distinct from the kingdom of France, and relations between the two were troubled. Just about 300 years after the initial conquest, the now nearly English House of Plantagenet battled the very French House of Valois over the French throne during the Hundred Years War. This was the war when teenage Joan of Arc led her people to victory and gave voice to how the French felt about the English right around then: "Of the love or hatred God has for the English, I know nothing, but I do know that they will all be thrown out of France, except those who die there." The struggle ultimately didn't go well for England, which lost Normandy and became, finally, the island nation we now know.

French-English relations never really recovered, but they never really got a chance to, with all the time spent fighting. In all, England has fought 35 wars with France since 1066; England won 23, lost 11, and determined a mutual defeat after the American Revolution.

Because the French are rude

The English aren't quite the world's most polite people, but they're close and they do take a certain pride in their manners and reserve (but don't mistake that reserve for unfriendliness, advised one American GI guide from WWII). So the famed French rudeness "“ mostly famous in England "“ is somewhat of an affront to their existence.

The English are quick to produce evidence of French rudeness: In London restaurants, it takes an average of 3.4 minutes to get a glass of water after the waiter has been alert, compared to 17.9 minutes in Paris; many French people don't clean up after their dogs, leaving around 6,438 US tons of canine crap on their streets each year; and with some, there's an odor problem "“ 40 percent of French men and 25 percent of women don't change their underwear every day and only 47 percent bathe every day.

mrrude.jpgThe idea that French people are rude has become so indoctrinated in English culture that a recent remake of the Mr. Men cartoons (Mr. Grumpy, Mr. Tickles, etc.), featured a character named Mr. Rude, who farts, blows raspberries, and speaks with a French accent. Oh, snaps.

And then there's the fact that there is an actual recognized medical syndrome describing the psychological breakdown that occurs when a foreign traveler to Paris discovers that the city of romance and light isn't all its cracked up to be. It's called "Paris Syndrome" and it appears to particularly affect Japanese tourists not accustomed to a society where it's acceptable for a waiter to yell at a customer if they don't speak fluent French.

Because they're food snobs

michelin.jpgFrance has long been convinced not only of their cuisine's superiority over that of every other country, but in particular, over its near neighbor, England. And that stings.

Frustration with and dismissal of French food snobbery has become part of English life, but in recent years, as English chefs have been working hard to revamp the sorry state and image of English cuisine, it's become more pointed. And it's a conversation that happens each year, when the Michelin guide, a restaurant guidebook featuring the actual Michelin man on its cover that's been a European standard for more than 100 years, is published. While it's odd enough that a tire company could be such a long-respected arbiter of luxury, taste and refinement, British restaurant circles are more attenuated to the fact that it's a French institution. And in 2009, though there were 26 three-star rated restaurants in France, there were only three in the UK. Coincidence? The English think not.

Because they're wine snobs

In the wine world, the English had a wonderful time gloating over the famous defeat of French wines during a blind taste test at the Judgment of Paris in 1976 (see the film Bottle Shock). While it was a Californian wine that did the honors, toppling the French wine crown, just watching someone, anyone, beat the French was incredibly satisfying. And of course, the English are very happy to remind you that it was an English wine merchant who brought the Californian wine to the expo.

Because they're fashion snobs

A French woman (or man, for that matter), as countless catwalks and fashion magazines have reinforced, could walk out of their pied a terre attired entirely in brown burlap and make it seem enviably fashionable. Fashion in England, on the other hand, tends to be, well, strikingly unfashionable. (Witness English designer Stella McCartney's recent lace jumpsuit mess at the Met's Costume Institute Gala.)

In her ethnographic study Watching the English, anthropologist Kate Fox discusses England's inability to reliably dress well and relates a tale that probably sums up French snobbishness toward English taste: "On one occasion, when I protested that singling us out in this way was a bit unfair, a rather grand French lady replied, "˜It is perfectly fair. One does not expect much from the colonies, but you English are supposed to be civilized Europeans. You really should know better. Paris is what, an hour away?'" This particularly scathing conversation took place, Fox said, at Royal Ascot, a horse race that primarily serves to showcase well-dressed and heeled Englishwomen in their "smartest frocks" and hats.

Because French women "don't get fat"

According to French woman and author Mirielle Guiliano, French women don't get fat. Yes, despite all those rich, full fat dishes like fois gras and charming desserts stuffed with chocolate and cream and sugar, French people are still arrestingly thin, beautiful, and well, French. It's just like The Brady Bunch: England is Jan and it's always "France, France, France."

However, recent studies have thrown a bit more light on the phenomenon: With an average body mass index of 23.2, French women are in fact the thinnest women in Western Europe (French men are also the slimmest in Western Europe). But that might be because they worry much, much more about it than their other Western European sisters. According to the same study, though France harbored the highest proportion of underweight women, only half of those women believed they were underweight.

On the other hand, British women maintain the highest average body mass index, at 26.2 "“ yet most believe they're just the right size.

Because the French hate the English, too

But perhaps the best explanation for why the English antagonize, dislike, make fun of, and are humorously intolerant of the French is because the French do it to them. Just as the English brand things that they are moderately intolerant of as "French" (a "French letter" among the WWII generation, for example, was a condom), so too do the French term unacceptable things "Anglais" (the French word for condom, accordingly, was "capote Anglais").

French Rugby player Sylvain Marconnet summed it up pretty well, just before the fiercely competitive Six Nations Rugby tournament this year: "I'm French and I cultivate a kind of hate for the English," he said. "This hate has been passed on to me and I'll pass it on."

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A.C. Gilbert, the Toymaker Who (Actually) Saved Christmas 
Travel Salem via Flickr // CC BY-ND 2.0
Travel Salem via Flickr // CC BY-ND 2.0

Alfred Carlton Gilbert was told he had 15 minutes to convince the United States government not to cancel Christmas.

For hours, he paced the outer hall, awaiting his turn before the Council of National Defense. With him were the tools of his trade: toy submarines, air rifles, and colorful picture books. As government personnel walked by, Gilbert, bashful about his cache of kid things, tried hiding them behind a leather satchel.

Finally, his name was called. It was 1918, the U.S. was embroiled in World War I, and the Council had made an open issue about their deliberation over whether to halt all production of toys indefinitely, turning factories into ammunition centers and even discouraging giving or receiving gifts that holiday season. Instead of toys, they argued, citizens should be spending money on war bonds. Playthings had become inconsequential.

Frantic toymakers persuaded Gilbert, founder of the A.C. Gilbert Company and creator of the popular Erector construction sets, to speak on their behalf. Toys in hand, he faced his own personal firing squad of military generals, policy advisors, and the Secretary of War.

Gilbert held up an air rifle and began to talk. What he’d say next would determine the fate of the entire toy industry.

Even if he had never had to testify on behalf of Christmas toys, A.C. Gilbert would still be remembered for living a remarkable life. Born in Oregon in 1884, Gilbert excelled at athletics, once holding the world record for consecutive chin-ups (39) and earning an Olympic gold medal in the pole vault during the 1908 Games. In 1909, he graduated from Yale School of Medicine with designs on remaining in sports as a health advisor.

But medicine wasn’t where Gilbert found his passion. A lifelong performer of magic, he set his sights on opening a business selling illusionist kits. The Mysto Manufacturing Company didn’t last long, but it proved to Gilbert that he had what it took to own and operate a small shingle. In 1916, three years after introducing the Erector sets, he renamed Mysto the A.C. Gilbert Company.

Erector was a big hit in the burgeoning American toy market, which had typically been fueled by imported toys from Germany. Kids could take the steel beams and make scaffolding, bridges, and other small-development projects. With the toy flying off shelves, Gilbert’s factory in New Haven, Connecticut grew so prosperous that he could afford to offer his employees benefits that were uncommon at the time, like maternity leave and partial medical insurance.

Gilbert’s reputation for being fair and level-headed led the growing toy industry to elect him their president for the newly created Toy Manufacturers of America, an assignment he readily accepted. But almost immediately, his position became something other than ceremonial: His peers began to grow concerned about the country’s involvement in the war and the growing belief that toys were a dispensable effort.

President Woodrow Wilson had appointed a Council of National Defense to debate these kinds of matters. The men were so preoccupied with the consequences of the U.S. marching into a European conflict that something as trivial as a pull-string toy or chemistry set seemed almost insulting to contemplate. Several toy companies agreed to convert to munitions factories, as did Gilbert. But when the Council began discussing a blanket prohibition on toymaking and even gift-giving, Gilbert was given an opportunity to defend his industry.

Before Gilbert was allowed into the Council’s chambers, a Naval guard inspected each toy for any sign of sabotage. Satisfied, he allowed Gilbert in. Among the officials sitting opposite him were Secretary of War Newton Baker and Secretary of the Navy Josephus Daniels.

“The greatest influences in the life of a boy are his toys,” Gilbert said. “Yet through the toys American manufacturers are turning out, he gets both fun and an education. The American boy is a genuine boy and wants genuine toys."

He drew an air rifle, showing the committee members how a child wielding less-than-lethal weapons could make for a better marksman when he was old enough to become a soldier. He insisted construction toys—like the A.C. Gilbert Erector Set—fostered creative thinking. He told the men that toys provided a valuable escape from the horror stories coming out of combat.

Armed with play objects, a boy’s life could be directed toward “construction, not destruction,” Gilbert said.

Gilbert then laid out his toys for the board to examine. Secretary Daniels grew absorbed with a toy submarine, marveling at the detail and asking Gilbert if it could be bought anywhere in the country. Other officials examined children’s books; one began pushing a train around the table.

The word didn’t come immediately, but the expressions on the faces of the officials told the story: Gilbert had won them over. There would be no toy or gift embargo that year.

Naturally, Gilbert still devoted his work floors to the production efforts for both the first and second world wars. By the 1950s, the A.C. Gilbert Company was dominating the toy business with products that demanded kids be engaged and attentive. Notoriously, he issued a U-238 Atomic Energy Lab, which came complete with four types of uranium ore. “Completely safe and harmless!” the box promised. A Geiger counter was included. At $50 each, Gilbert lost money on it, though his decision to produce it would earn him a certain infamy in toy circles.

“It was not suitable for the same age groups as our simpler chemistry and microscope sets, for instance,” he once said, “and you could not manufacture such a thing as a beginner’s atomic energy lab.”

Gilbert’s company reached an astounding $20 million in sales in 1953. By the mid-1960s, just a few years after Gilbert's death in 1961, it was gone, driven out of business by the apathy of new investors. No one, it seemed, had quite the same passion for play as Gilbert, who had spent over half a century providing fun and educational fare that kids were ecstatic to see under their trees.

When news of the Council’s 1918 decision reached the media, The Boston Globe's front page copy summed up Gilbert’s contribution perfectly: “The Man Who Saved Christmas.”

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15 Surprising Facts About Scarface
Universal Home Video
Universal Home Video

Say hello to our little list. Here are a few facts to break out at your next screening of Scarface, Brian De Palma’s gangsters-and-cocaine classic, which arrived in theaters on this day in 1983.

1. IT WASN'T THE FIRST SCARFACE.

Brian De Palma's Scarface is a loose remake of the 1932 movie of the same name, which is also about the rise and fall of an American immigrant gangster. The producer of the 1983 version, Martin Bregman, saw the original on late night TV and thought the idea could be modernized—though it still pays respect to the original film. De Palma's flick is dedicated to the original film’s director, Howard Hawks, and screenwriter, Ben Hecht.

2. IT COULD HAVE BEEN A SIDNEY LUMET FILM.

At one point in the film's production, Sidney Lumet—the socially conscious director of such classics as Dog Day Afternoon and 12 Angry Men—was brought on as its director. "Sidney Lumet came up with the idea of what's happening today in Miami, and it inspired Bregman," Pacino told Empire Magazine. "He and Oliver Stone got together and produced a script that had a lot of energy and was very well written. Oliver Stone was writing about stuff that was touching on things that were going on in the world, he was in touch with that energy and that rage and that underbelly."

3. OLIVER STONE WASN'T INTERESTED IN WRITING THE SCRIPT, UNTIL LUMET GOT INVOLVED.


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Producer Bregman offered relative newcomer Oliver Stone a chance to overhaul the screenplay, but Stone—who was still reeling from the box office disappointment of his film, The Hand—wasn't interested. "I didn’t like the original movie that much," Stone told Creative Screenwriting. "It didn’t really hit me at all and I had no desire to make another Italian gangster picture because so many had been done so well, there would be no point to it. The origin of it, according to Marty Bregman, [was that] Al had seen the '30s version on television, he loved it and expressed to Marty as his long time mentor/partner that he’d like to do a role like that. So Marty presented it to me and I had no interest in doing a period piece."

But when Bregman contacted Stone again about the project later, his opinion changed. "Sidney Lumet had stepped into the deal," Stone said. "Sidney had a great idea to take the 1930s American prohibition gangster movie and make it into a modern immigrant gangster movie dealing with the same problems that we had then, that we’re prohibiting drugs instead of alcohol. There’s a prohibition against drugs that’s created the same criminal class as (prohibition of alcohol) created the Mafia. It was a remarkable idea."

4. UNFORTUNATELY, ACCORDING TO STONE, LUMET HATED HIS SCRIPT.

While the chance to work with Lumet was part of what lured Stone to the project, it was his script that ultimately led to the director's departure from the film. According to Stone: "Sidney Lumet hated my script. I don’t know if he’d say that in public himself, I sound like a petulant screenwriter saying that, I’d rather not say that word. Let me say that Sidney did not understand my script, whereas Bregman wanted to continue in that direction with Al."

5. STONE HAD FIRSTHAND EXPERIENCE WITH THE SUBJECT MATTER.

In order to create the most accurate picture possible, Stone spent time in Florida and the Caribbean interviewing people on both sides of the law for research. "It got hairy," Stone admitted of the research process. "It gave me all this color. I wanted to do a sun-drenched, tropical Third World gangster, cigar, sexy Miami movie."

Unfortunately, while penning the screenplay, Stone was also dealing with his own cocaine habit, which gave him an insight into what the drug can do to users. Stone actually tried to kick his habit by leaving the country to complete the script so he could be far away from his access to the drug.

"I moved to Paris and got out of the cocaine world too because that was another problem for me," he said. "I was doing coke at the time, and I really regretted it. I got into a habit of it and I was an addictive personality. I did it, not to an extreme or to a place where I was as destructive as some people, but certainly to where I was going stale mentally. I moved out of L.A. with my wife at the time and moved back to France to try and get into another world and see the world differently. And I wrote the script totally f***ing cold sober."

6. BRIAN DE PALMA DIDN'T WANT TO AUDITION MICHELLE PFEIFFER.


Universal Home Video

De Palma was hesitant to audition the relatively untested Pfeiffer because at the time she was best known for the box office bomb Grease 2. Glenn Close, Geena Davis, Carrie Fisher, Kelly McGillis, Sharon Stone and Sigourney Weaver were all considered for the role of Elvira, but Bregman pushed for Pfeiffer to audition and she got the part.

7. YES, THERE IS A LOT OF SWEARING.

According to the Family Media Guide, which monitors profanity, sexual content, and violence in movies, Scarface features 207 uses of the “F” word, which works out to about 1.21 F-bombs per minute. In 2014, Martin Scorsese more than doubled that with a record-setting 506 F-bombs thrown in The Wolf of Wall Street.

8. TONY MONTANA WAS NAMED FOR A FOOTBALL STAR.

Stone, who was a San Francisco 49ers fan, named the character of Tony Montana after Joe Montana, his favorite football player.

9. TONY IS ONLY REFERRED TO AS "SCARFACE" ONCE, AND IT'S IN SPANISH.

Hector, the Colombian gangster who threatens Tony with the chainsaw, refers to Tony as “cara cicatriz,” meaning “scar face” in Spanish.

That chainsaw scene, by the way, was based on a real incident. To research the movie, Stone embedded himself with Miami law enforcement and based the infamous chainsaw sequence on a gangland story he heard from the Miami-Dade County police.

10. VERY LITTLE OF THE FILM WAS ACTUALLY SHOT IN MIAMI.

The film was originally going to be shot entirely on location in Miami, but protests by the local Cuban-American community forced the movie to leave Miami two weeks into production. Besides footage from those two weeks, the rest of the movie was shot in Los Angeles, New York, and Santa Barbara.

11. ALL THAT "COCAINE" LED TO PROBLEMS WITH PACINO'S NASAL PASSAGES.

Though there has long been a myth that Pacino snorted real cocaine on camera for Scarface, the "cocaine" used in the movie was supposedly powdered milk (even if De Palma has never officially stated what the crew used as a drug stand-in). But just because it wasn't real doesn't mean that it didn't create problems for Pacino's nasal passages. "For years after, I have had things up in there," Pacino said in 2015. "I don't know what happened to my nose, but it's changed."

12. PACINO'S NOSE WASN'T HIS ONLY BODY PART TO SUFFER DAMAGE.

Still of Al Pacino as Tony Montana in 'Scarface' (1983)
Universal Home Video

In the film's very bloody conclusion, Montana famously asks the assailants who've invaded his home to "say hello to my little friend," which happens to be a very large gun. That gun took a beating from all the blanks it had to fire, so much so that Pacino ended up burning his hand on its barrel. "My hand stuck to that sucker," he said. Ultimately, the actor—and his bandaged hands—had to sit out some of the action in the last few weeks of production.

13. STEVEN SPIELBERG DIRECTED A SINGLE SHOT.

De Palma and Spielberg had been friends since the two began making studio movies in the mid-1970s, and they made a habit of visiting each other’s sets. Spielberg was on hand for one of the days of shooting the Colombians’ initial attack on Tony Montana’s house at the end of the movie, so De Palma let Spielberg direct the low-angle shot where the attackers first enter the house.

14. SOME COOL TECHNOLOGY WENT INTO THE GUN MUZZLE FLASHES.

In order to heighten the severity of the gunfire, De Palma and the special effects coordinators created a mechanism to synchronize the gunfire with the open shutter on the movie camera to show the huge muzzle flash coming from the guns in the final shootout.

15. SADDAM HUSSEIN WAS A FAN OF THE FILM.

The trust fund the former Iraqi dictator set up to launder money was called “Montana Management,” a nod to the company Tony uses to launder money in the movie.

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