Application

The Difference Between Neo and Luke Skywalker

As with the article last week regarding why Everything Is Not a Hero's Journey, there also exists a certain group of people that seem to think many popular Protagonists are really just carbon-copies of one another. To them, every central character in a story is simply another evolution of Gilgamesh.

Now, to a certain extent, they are right.

Luke is more than just a Protagonist.

Both Neo (Keanu Reeves) in The Matrix and Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamil) in Star Wars fulfill the role of the classic Protagonist; that is, they are the ones who are pursuing the successful resolution of the story's primary goal. In this purely objective context they do resemble each other. But where their similarity breaks down is in the deeper investigation of what is really going on inside of them personally.

Many central characters find themselves faced against apparently insurmountable odds. Many grow to a point where they fundamentally have to change the way they see the world (though this is not always the case). And many find emotional relief from their personal issues at the end of a story ’Äî many reach a catharsis where they overcome that which held them back.

When using the above as touch points for examining a story, sure, it looks like every Protagonist is the same. Both Neo (Keanu Reeves) in The Matrix and Luke Skywalker in Star Wars easily fit into these generalized observations regarding story. But that's just it ’Äî they lack specificity. Not only are these concepts of story useless to a writer in figuring out exactly what to do with their story, they also prove to be ultimately detrimental because of their blatant inaccuracies.

Constructing a story ’Äî a meaningful story ’Äî is a hard and demanding process. There can be no room for best guesses or gross generalities.

Both The Matrix and Star Wars, while similar at face value, really are quite different. One concerned itself with faith, the other with trust.

What Motivates a Character

Every Main Character comes to a story ripe with personal baggage. Whether it be some deep psychological issue from when they were a child, or something that just happened to them yesterday, this personal issue ’Äî or problem ’Äî is what motivates them to participate in the larger entity that is a story.

Mr. Andersen has a hard time believing.

In The Matrix, Thomas Andersen (Neo) suffers from a preponderance of disbelief, both in himself and in the world around him. When asked by Morpehus to climb out on the ledge in order to escape Agent Smith, Thomas doesn't get very far before turning around. "I can't do this, " he claims as he cowers back inside. It is this idea that he is so unpersuadable, both inside and outside of the Matrix, that sits at the heart of Neo's personal struggle.

In Star Wars, Luke Skywalker consistently gets into trouble because of his relentless need to test himself. When R2 goes missing, he leaps at the chance to prove his mettle and promptly gets his ass handed to him by the local natives. This flaw haunts him at every turn. In earlier drafts, there was even a sci-fi take on the classic 50's drag race, complete with the requisite scene of Luke pushing his dragster beyond the limits of safety in order to test his abilities against his fellow desert delinquents. This drive to test himself at every turn was Luke's major personal problem.

Luke, on the other hand, never had a problem with believing.

Clearly these two characters are coming from two different places.

Luke never had a problem believing in the Force; he was on-board with the whole thing from the moment he lost his aunt and uncle. Likewise, Neo didn't create problems because he felt this need to test himself all the time; if left to his own devices he probably would have still been there camped out in front of his computer screen.

They both were motivated by two distinct and separate problems.

Why does this matter?

A Solution For Every Problem

Different problems require different solutions. You wouldn't use masking-tape to hold together soap bubbles anymore than you would use a hammer to make a sandwich. Each problem defines its own appropriate solution and nothing less will than that one particular solution will resolve it.

Disbelief requires faith as a solution. Test requires trust.

Thomas Andersen eventually grows to a point where he can begin believing that he is, indeed, Neo. Faith resolves his issues. Luke eventually grows to a point where he is willing to let go. Trusting in the Force resolves his issues. Both characters managed to resolve their individual problems by using the correct solution for the issues that plagued them.

Now, at first glance, faith may seem an awful lot like trust. Couldn't you argue that Neo was really trusting Morpheus when he decides not to run from Agent Smith? And couldn't you say that Luke started believing in the Force when he turned off his targeting computer? Not really.

Neo would not be the superhero he was at the end of the first film if he simply trusted in Morpheus. There was no way he was going to be able to stop those bullets until he truly believed that he could. Similarly, we already established that Luke believed in the Force ’Äî he even had an argument with Han about it back when he was first training on the Milennium Falcon. Luke needed to simply trust in this otherworldly "force" for the torpedoes to hit their mark.

Why then is it so important to delineate the exact nature of the problem in a story?

The Problem Defines the Story

Reliance on this is why Star Wars needed Luke.

The Main Character's problem represents the finest level of granularity from which one can appreciate the true meaning of a story. That's why an exploration of it can so often seem like splitting hairs. It is important though to make this distinction, because there is so much more that is built on top of the problem, so much more that relies on the accurate understanding of it, that to get it wrong would only cause greater problems in the story at large.

The Main Character's problem is intimately tied to the problems suffered by all the characters in a story. It's why this particular Main Character is even in the story in the first place; and it is the answer to the question Why now? so often referred to in story meetings. If for some reason these two problems are at odds (the external and internal), the Main Character may seem out of place, or worse, inconsequential to the resolution of the story.

In addition, there will be a discrepancy between the kinds of goals in stories with dissimilar problems. Problems of belief will naturally lead to goals focused on accomplishing some insurmountable task. Problems of trust organically lend themselves to goals more focused on simply doing something. Like the distinction between faith and trust, the distinction between acquiring something and doing something is a very important one.

This is why Luke would not have fit into the story that was The Matrix, and why Neo would have had a hard time finding a home amongst the inhabitants of Star Wars. Each particular story goal required a different central character, a different vessel for the meaning of the story.

The Right Man (or Woman) For the Job

Taking control of the Matrix was the Goal of the story.

The goal of The Matrix was to gain control over the software program, to bend it to the will of the humans. Simply fighting Agent Smith and his well-dressed friends was not enough (as evidenced by Morpheus' years of trying). Neo was the lynch-pin for the successful achievement of that goal because the one thing that would allow them to gain that control ’Äî unwavering belief ’Äî was an important factor of Neo's character development.

Luke, as described above, had no problem with believing. Trying to replace Neo with Luke would have broken the logic of the story structure and diminished any appreciable meaning.

In Star Wars there was no attempt to gain control over the Empire or the tyrannical systems they employed. Instead, there was only the will to find a competent way to fight them. That was the goal of the story. And like Neo, Luke was the key to the successful achievement of that story goal because learning to trust was a crucial part of his individual character development. The only way for the Rebels to successfully fight against the Empire was to trust in something other than themselves.

Neo trusted Morpheus from the very first IM he received. To swap him for Luke would have destroyed that story's meaning and shortened the film to about thirteen minutes. These two characters are simply not interchangeable.

The Need for Clarity in Storytelling

Not every story is the same. There are tens of thousands of different meaningful story structures, each with its own unique perspective on why things are the way they are. And because each unique story structure requires a specific kind of central character, it follows that there are just as many variations of Main Character.

The Matrix was trying to prove how having more faith can lead to greater happiness, while Star Wars was trying to prove that trusting in something other than yourself is the way to go. While looking at them through the lens of the Hero's Journey they might seem the same, the truth is that they carry two very distinct and separate messages. This is yet another reason why the Hero's Journey is a failed device for appreciating the meaning of a story.

By definition, everything in a meaningful story is connected. Character flows through plot which flows through theme and finally closes the circle through genre. The machine that is a well-told story is a delicate balance of passionate storytelling and solid logical story-structure. To be inaccurate on even the smallest of matters is to invite failure in the construction of the story at large and a breakdown in the communication of the message the Author hopes to send.

The Illusion of Change

Let's revisit one of Christopher Nolan's lesser-known (though not lesser films) The Prestige. Telling the story of two magicians fighting for fame and fortune in the Victorian Era, this 2006 thriller delivers concrete emotional wallop amongst the dark suspense and surprise that is common with Nolan's work. Much of his success can be attributed to the sound story structure he diligently applies to every film. Story structure that, like Inception, gives greater meaning to the events that unfold.

Dueling Magicians

One of the precepts for a meaningful story centers around the idea that when looking at the two principal characters one will transformationally change, while the other will remain steadfast. While this may seem to run counter to the widely accepted notion that a character must change in order to arc, it actually speaks of a more accurate understanding of What Character Arc Really Means. Two approaches are presented towards solving the story's major problem, one appropriate, the other not so much. Which one is which is entirely up to the Author and the message they wish to communicate with their audience. When both characters change there is nothing said, no greater purpose to the events on-screen, and therefore, no reason to remember the film some twenty-five minutes later when one pulls out of parking.

To a writer, change should be evaluated by comparing the character's final resolve at the end of the story with who the character was at the beginning. If their character ’Äî if the way they look at and see the world ’Äî has somehow become drastically different from where they started, then yes they have had a transformation of character. If on the other hand, they simply grew into a viewpoint they only somewhat believed in at the beginning, then they have actually held steadfast to their worldview. They haven't changed, they have simply grown.

One can grow without changing who they are and how they see the world.

At first glance it may seem that both principal characters change in The Prestige. Robert Angier (Huge Jackman) changes from a magician unwilling to get his hands dirty (as evidenced by his reticence to kill even the smallest of birds) to a man willing to kill himself over and over again for the roar of the crowd. On the other side of the street, Alfred Borden (Christian Bale) transforms from a man willing to do whatever it takes to keep his magic a secret (as evidenced by the prompt removal of two perfectly good digits) to a man willing to admit the truth of his situation regardless of who he may hurt. So how can both be considered Change characters if in doing so, the story would be considered broken?

Ignoring this paradox for a moment, the similarities between the two ’Äî the "You and I" connection, become as equally important in the investigation of this story's structure. Both magicians are driven by that desire for "the Prestige." If the film had been written by an lesser artist, there might have even been an on-the-nose conversation where Angier calls Borden out:

Ugh. As it stands, we do get something close to that in the final reveal scene, but admittedly with more artistry and professsionalism than the ham-handed example above. Regardless, both characters are driven by that desire for recognition, but only one of them truly lets it go at the end. To determine who, it becomes necessary to separate out the individual storylines.

The Main Character Throughline

It is Angier's desire for adulation that truly defines him.

The Main Character's Throughline, while woven into the thematics and plot events of the larger main story, maintains its own concerns and thematic issues. In fact, these dramatic concepts are so unique to this character that he or she would take them with them no matter what story they went into. If Luke had never run into R2 and instead was involved in a story about drag-racing across the dunes of Tatooine (Taladega Wars), he would still have found time to whine about how he was stuck on a planet where his spaceship fantasies could never become a reality. Likewise, if William Munny had never heard of Big Whisky, and instead was involved in the great Oklahoma Land Rush with Tom and Nicole (Far and Unforgiven), he would still have had those issues with maintaining his wife's attitude that he "ain't a bad man any more." If someone were to try and claim one of his stakes, why...well let's just say that Little Bill probably got off easy.

Thus, in order to truly understand what is most personal to the Main Character of a story, it becomes necessary to filter out all those elements that really are a part of the larger main story. This is even more important in a film like The Prestige where the Main Character is also the Protagonist not always the case. Far too many times what people think of as a personal moment from the Main Character point-of-view actually turns out to be a choice or action taken from their point-of-view as the primary driver of the main story.

If one were to overlook all of Angier's actions as Protagonist (and his goal of trying to understand how Borden does the Transported Man trick), his most personal issues deal with his desire to be the very best, his obsession with the adulation of the audience, and of making them forget their ordinary lives ’Äî if even for a second or two. These are the kinds of issues he would take with him into any story as they are the problems central to his very nature. They coalesce nicely with the rest of the story, but they can be seen as separate and individual and most importantly, personal to him.

Scenes where we the audience see the Main Character alone are often chock-full of these sort of personal thematic issues. In The Prestige we get such a moment during Angier's first performance of his own Transported Man trick. Having successfully swapped places with his alcoholic look-alike, Robert takes his triumphant bow from below the stage ’Äî out of sight of the adoring audience but thankfully within earshot. His desire for that love, regardless of how he has to get it, speaks volumes about his character.

Another often-used device in communicating this personal throughline is to have another character in the story point out plainly and clearly what the Main Character's real problem is. This is not the same as the Impact Character, who by their very existence in the story forces the Main Character to deal with their personal issues, but rather a character who simply comes out and says, "Hey, you know what your problem is?" David Bowie's Tesla fills this role when he warns Angier of proceeding:

And thus we have a perfect example of a Main Character moment. With these issues at the core of what Angier is personally struggling with it becomes obvious that he grew INTO his resolve, not out of it. His desire began as a small kernel of motivation, but eventually grew into something that consumed him, resulting in his eventual destruction. This was, of course, the meaning behind the whole piece.

Angier, therefore, was a Steadfast Main Character.

The Difference Between Resolve and Growth

Not ready to get his hands dirty...yet.

Resolve, which is what we are concerned with when determining whether a character ultimately changes or stays true to their nature, sits apart from the actual character's growth. Their growth is how they get there, how they end up at that moment of crisis, faced with that choice that will set in stone their resolve. Main Characters can waffle back and forth through the story (and probably should for the sake of interest), but it is that final culminating moment that ultimately defines them. Have they grown to a point where they are ready to let it all go and see the world anew? Or have they determined for themselves that yes, the way they have been going about this is truly the way to go.

Angier's need to "get his hands dirty" was something he had to grow into, but was always something he had the potential for. Only then could the audience begin to love him the way he wanted them to. He had moments of doubt, moments when he considered changing, but in the end, in the end he stuck with that desire for fame.

Borden, on the other hand, completely transforms his worldview. The key scene for this happens when his wife asks the twin brother (the one more interested in Johanssen) whether or not he really loves her.

Since the moment he met her, Borden has been driven to keep up the perception that both he and his brother were one and the same. How else could he successfully pull off the trick of the century without this elaborate deception? The only problem is that this success came with a price ’Äî the emotional torture of his innocent wife. Eventually, and in no small part to his interactions with Angier, Borden comes to a place where he just can't keep it up any longer and reveals to her the truth:

Borden changes to someone no longer driven by illusion. Reality has taken over as his new approach to solving problems and one can imagine that, moving forward, Borden and his brother might choose a different line of work. Unfortunately, in undergoing this transformation of character, Borden breaks Sarah's heart, revealing to her that all along the trick was more important than their relationship. Motivated by this new revelation, his wife feels as if she has no other alternative than to take her own life.

In sharp contrast, there is no way Angier would give up that stage for anything or anybody.

Clarity of Character

Separating out the throughlines, determining the difference between a character's resolve and their personal growth, clarifying which principal character transforms and which maintains their point-of-view ’Äî all of these are tools a writer can use to insure that their story stays consistent and meaningful throughout. When writing a story as complex and non-linear as The Prestige, understanding precisely what is going with the characters that populate it can go a long way towards making sure the audience does not leave befuddled or overcome with unanswered questions. Those who prefer to leave such concepts left to chance, or to the whims of their individual muse, aren't really looking close enough because really...they don't want to know.

They want to be fooled.

Plot Points and the Inciting Incident

Every problem has its own genesis, a moment at which the balance is tipped and the previous sense of oneness is lost. With separation comes the awareness of an inequity, and a desire to return back to a state of parity. Every problem has a solution, and a story explores that process of trying to attain resolution.

In a story, this Opening Event ’Äî or beginning of a story ’Äî is commonly referred to as the Inciting Incident.

The Exciting Incident

The Inciting Incident (or "exciting incident" as someone once referred to it) is the event or decision that begins a story's problem. Everything up and until that moment is Backstory; everything after is "the story." Before this moment there is an equilibrium, a relative peace that the characters in a story have grown accustomed to. This incisive moment, or plot point occurs and upsets the balance of things. Suddenly there is a problem to be solved.

Stories are about solving problems. Sometimes they are solved, as is the case with Star Wars, Casablanca or Inception. Other times, as with stories like Hamlet, Amadeus or Se7en, they aren't. Regardless of outcome, this Inciting Incident gets the ball rolling by introducing an inequity into the lives of the characters that inhabit the story. The Protagonist seeks the solution, the Antagonist seeks to prevent it.

Every story works this way.

The Reason for Plot Points

The two central objective characters, Protagonist and Antagonist, battle it out until approximately one-quarter of a way into a story, some other event or decision occurs that spins the story into a brand new direction. This second plot point is referred to as the First Act Turn as it turns the story from the First Act into the Second. This is a further development of the problem, not the beginning of a problem.

Other plot points ’Äî the Mid-Point and Second Act Turn ’Äî continue to escalate the issues surrounding the efforts to resolve the problem until finally, the Concluding Event, or Final Plot Point, ends the story. As mentioned above, this does not necessarily mean the problem has been solved. It simply means that the efforts that were undertaken by the Protagonist have come to their natural end as every resource has been exhausted.

These plot points naturally split a story into four parts. For fans of Aristotle, the first part is the Beginning, the second two are the Middle and the third is the Ending. There is a meaningful reason why there are four parts. In short, for every problem there are four basic contexts from which you can explore the way to solve a problem. Once you have explored all four contexts, the story is over. Any continuation would simply be a rehash of something that has already been investigated.

The most important thing to take away from all of this is that the First Act Turn is NOT the Inciting Incident. This is a common mistake by many first time writers, and is generally caused by a lack of understanding exactly why these plot points exist in the first place. One plot point starts the problems, the other furthers the complications of said problem.

Inciting Incidents and First Act Turns

The following is a list of great stories with their corresponding Inciting Incidents and First Act Turning Points. The numbers provided are either based on page numbers, Kindle percentages or minutes depending on what source material was easily accessible.

For those who don't know, the general idea is that one page of a screenplay generally lines up with one minute of screen time. A 120 page screenplay often lasts two hours on screen. or 120 minutes. Thus, the Inciting Incident would occur on or near page 0, while the First Act Turn would happen somewhere near page 30 (out of 120). If we're talking percentages, that would be about one-quarter of the way into a story.

Star Wars

The Inciting Incident of Star Wars is Darth Vader's attack on Princess Leia's ship (1/120). While there was a civil war going on prior to this event, it isn't until the Empire shows its true colors by illegally boarding a ship purported to be on a "diplomatic mission" that the real problems of the story begin. The Empire has grown ruthless in its efforts to contain any rebellion, this inciting event is only the beginning of many more to come.

The First Act Turn begins with the Empire's sinister agents attack on peaceful Jawas and ends with their barbeque of Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru (30-31/120). Suddenly, what began as a simple conflict over jurisdiction has now turned into an all-out rampage that affects even the most remote and more importantly, innocent, members of the galaxy. The problem has grown in its potential for even greater conflict.

The Matrix

The Inciting Incident of The Matrix is Morpheus' decision that Mr. Andersen is the One they have been looking for (2/130). This one decision drives the entire rest of the story, for if he hadn't picked Tom the rest of the world would have stayed comfortably numb in their battery pods. Without the Inciting Incident, there would be no story.

The First Act Turn begins with Neo's decision to come in off the ledge (21/130). It isn't until this true sign of character that Morpheus is forced into taking even greater strides to break poor Mr. Andersen out of the Matrix. These deliberations by Neo ’Äî continuing with his "giving the finger" scene, choosing whether or not to stay in the car, and culminating with his decision to take the red pill ’Äî all create resistance to Morpheus' initial selection. It isn't until Neo finally decides that he is the One (121/130) that the problems in the story come to a successful resolution.

Unforgiven

The Inciting Incident of Unforgiven is Little Bill's leniency towards Quick Mike (5/120). Little Bill is known for dealing with criminals in his own special way, why the sudden change of heart? His refusal to respond in kind creates a rift within the story at large, and forces the whores to seek out their own justice. The first Act Turning Point only makes matters worse with the arrival of English Bob and his refusal to surrender his sidearms to "proper authority"(33/120).

The Sixth Sense

The Inciting Incident of The Sixth Sense is Vincent's attack on Malcom (8/109). Without this gunshot, there would be no story and no compulsion for Malcom to meet with Cole. The First Act Turning Point comes with Cole's revelation that he might suffer from the same violent tendencies that Vincent did. His steps back and his conclusion that Malcom can't help him only furthers the problems caused by the perception that Cole is merely a "disturbed" child (22/109).

Casablanca

The Inciting Incident of Casablanca is Ugarte's decision to give Rick the letters of transit (15/127). While the murder of the two couriers seems to get things rolling, problems don't really start until Ugarte decides to give them to Rick. After all, people get murdered in Casablanca all the time. But give them to someone whose allegiances are in question? Now we've got a problem.

These papers and the efforts to retrieve become the major source of conflict for everyone involved in the story. This is why Rick's deliberations over what to do with them, including his refusal to help out Ugarte ("I stick my neck out for nobody"), propel the First Act into the Second (30-45/127). With Rick in charge of who gets them and when, Laszlo's mission becomes that much more difficult.

The Lives of Others

The Inciting Incident of The Lives of Others is Minister's Hempf's decision to have Georg Dreyman "watched." (10/135). Without this bigwig's desire for Dreyman's girlfriend, Wiesler would have continued his life as he always had, and quite possibly would never have crossed paths with this writer and his friends.

Like Casablanca, the First Act Turn comes more as a wave than an actual singular event. This time it is Dreyman's best friend, the director Albert Jerska, and his constant ruminations over the purpose of his life that progressively complicate a simple spy operation into something far more reaching and grander in scope. Jerska's dark contemplations of suicide inspire Dreyman to write and give reason for Wiesler to better understand the kind of struggles and torment these artists go through as a result of the state's actions.

The Incredibles

And finally, the Inciting Incident of The Incredibles occurs with the overwhelming flood of lawsuits stemming from Mr. Incredible's loss in court against Oliver Sansweet, the man he rescued from suicide (14/127). This rush to sue forces the Supers into hiding, promising "to never again resume hero work." These previously costumed guys (and girls) now can't be who they want to be, and thus yet another story inequity has been created. If it had just been Sansweet, then perhaps things would have simmered down. The flood of lawsuits tipped the scales.

Problems escalate when Bob and Frozone almost get caught during the fire in the apartment building sequence (32/127). Before, Bob had found a way to deal with the initial problem by moonlighting with his best friend. This event, and their near apprehension by local authorities, forces Frozone to decide that this night was the last one. What was once a manageable problem has now become an even bigger one, and eventually provides the motivation for Bob to accept the mysterious invitation from Mirage.

Plot points drive a story towards the resolution of its problem.

Not Just About Movies

Even Bill understood the connection between the first two plot points.

But what about other forms of narrative fiction? Surely this is just a "formula" for Hollywood-wannabes to follow...

Story is story regardless of the delivery device.

The Inciting Incident of Shakespeare's Hamlet is the death of Hamlet's father. As with The Matrix, where the actual inciting event happens "off-screen", the story immediately opens up with the characters plagued by the problem's effects:

HAMLET:
Let me not think on't! Frailty, thy name is woman’Äî
A little month, or ere those shoes were old
With which she follow'd my poor father's body
Like Niobe, all tears ’Äî why she, even she ’Äî
O God! a beast that wants discourse of reason
Would have mourn'd longer’Äî

Quick tranlsation: Hamlet has been thrown into great despair because of his mother's impulsive move to quickly marry his father's brother, Claudius (10%). The fact that she couldn't even wait a month drives Hamlet mad, thus creating a problem in Elsinore that calls for some sort of resolution. This problem grows in importance when the Ghost of Hamlet's father informs his son of what really happened:

GHOST: A serpent stung me. So the whole ear of Denmark
Is by a forged process of my death
Rankly abused. But know, thou noble youth,
The serpent that did sting thy father's life
Now wears his crown.
HAMLET: O my prophetic soul! My uncle!

No longer an inequity that must be suffered, the death of Hamlet's father now becomes something that must be avenged (20%). The dramatic energy produced by the news of his father's passing has waned to the point where something new must come along and drive the story further towards its inevitable conclusion. This revelation of a "murder most foul" is that event, and can be considered the First Act Turning Point of the play.

Problems, Energy, and Plot Points

Determining the events or decisions that escalate a story's problem should be Job One for the working dramatist. It is one thing to create an opening scene that wrecks havoc on the characters in the film and forces them to deal with this new problem, quite another to ensure that the inequity persists until the closing curtain.

Eventually, as with Hamlet, the potential for dramatic conflict will decline throughout the course of an Act. It is the same drop in potential that one feels as the pain from a pinch or slap in the face subsides over time. In order for the problem of a story to continue to drive the characters towards an eventual solution, a new potential must be introduced. These new dramatic forces, escalating the problem beyond that initial blast, drive the story forward in such a way that the characters themselves could never return to who they were or what they did during that first initial response. There can be no turning back.

Act turns exist to re-energize the potential of a story's problem, not to satisfy page-counting readers or paradigm-happy script gurus. Connecting the two first plot points to this problem, and making sure that they aren't simply the same event, will give an audience something to engage in and something to become invested in. The fact of the matter is that no audience member can resist the draw of the problem solving process as it unfolds on the big screen; it's human nature to see what greater meaning can be gained from how the resolution plays out.

For All Digital Artists:

How to install Custom Photoshop Brushes:

STEP 1 - Put the .abr file you've downloaded onto the DESKTOP. If they are in a ZIP file, open the zip file and drag the .abr files on to your DESKTOP.

STEP 2 - Open your Adobe Photoshop, select the Brush tool, go to option palette at the top of the screen and click on the icon next to "Brush:" to open the brush preset picker.

Then click on little triangle in the right upper corner. Next on the list you choose 'Load Brushes'

In the dialog box, click on DESKTOP, and choose the .abr file you want to load and your new brushes appear in the Brush palette and are just ready to go. If there's mulitple Brush files to choose from, you may have to repeat the process to load them all one at a time.

To store all your Brushes in the one default folder:
[On a Mac] Put the .abr file you've downloaded into this folder: Users/{username}/Library/Application Support/Adobe/Adobe Photoshop CS3/Presets/Brushes
[on Windows] C:\Program Files\Adobe\Photoshop\Presets\Brushes.