The one on the left is Han Solo. The one on the right is everyone else.
I'm sure it's exactly like this for every other fan of Star Wars. So when I hear that a new fan edit of the movies has come out, I'm always apprehensive, especially when they claim to have improved stuff. It's like a serial killer movie, when the murderer says "Oh, you'll find them" to the police, and you absolutely know that by "them," he means "human limbs in three different time zones."
But by the time you see that R2-D2 has subtitles, you realize that The War of the Stars is not meant to improve Star Wars. It's simply there to show you what Star Wars would've been like if a sleazy drive-in theater owner from Buffalo, New York had financed it. "Give the little robot turtle fucker some dialogue. Who's gonna sit through beeps?"
It would've been easy to just make the footage grainy, but The Man Behind The Mask went above and beyond in turning this into an excruciatingly entertaining experience. A big thing that people forget about grindhouse movies is that there can be a lot of long stretches of dialogue. Modern "grindhouse" films like to reinterpret the genre as all fake blood and skimpy outfits, but even in kung fu classics that would have names like A Thousand Fists For Brother Chuck or One Kick And It's Over, Sucka, there are talking scenes that feel like they last for a goddamn year. You will go through two birthdays before the white guy that is definitely not Asian and the one Asian guy that they hired get done discussing honor.