現年29歲的韓劇《善良的男人》男星宋仲基昨午正式退伍，並獲不少粉絲到場迎接。一身軍裝的宋仲基現身退伍儀式，並發表退伍感想說：「所有韓國男人都要體驗軍隊生活，因此沒有甚麼特別之處。只不過我屬稍太的年紀才服役，所以十分擔心。粉絲們寄給我的包裹都給予我巨大力量。感謝大家支持，我想不需要說太多，我會以更好的面貌展現給大家。」

宋仲基未退伍前已獲不少片約邀請，當中他已落實與宋慧喬拍攝新劇《太陽的後裔》。昨日宋仲基承諾會在新作品中展現更好的一面，又自爆李光洙最能鼓舞他，並說：「比起女團，李光洙最能鼓舞我，他有來看過我一次，服役時亦每周都有看《Running Man》（RM），但因為光洙還在，所以我出不出演《RM》還不知道呢。」

Ever wondered how Zoë Kravitz and Miley Cyrus would entertain themselves if they were trapped in a hotel room for hours? Well, we have the answer in LOLAWOLF’s video for “Bitch.”

The catchy, rap-infused track is featured on the band’s debut LP Calm Down and the accompanying visual, directed by Trouble Andrew has a very Lo-fi aesthetic. You sort of feel like a friend, filming other friends, who are doing things you wouldn’t necessarily want your parents to see.

The video opens with a half naked Zoë in her hotel bed, then we catch her going through the motions to get (partially) dressed before Miley shows up to hang out.

Once they link up, there are a few activities going down, for example playing Go Fish with a deck of Hannah Montana cards, but the rest, you should probably just watch and see.

When MTV News caught up with Zoë back at SXSW in Austin, Texas, she told us that she’d just filmed a video in her hotel room, so if we’re connecting the dots, this might be the outcome of that shoot.

Below she also chats about going on tour with Twin Shadow and potentially collaborating with Drake or A$AP Rocky in the near future.

Since I was a kid with a stack of records in my room and a turnable I stole from my parents, I’ve been a fan of dead rock stars. I don’t think it was any kind of conscious decision — I wasn’t really a goth or a ghoul.

There was Nick Drake, whose collected discology I painstakingly collected in its entirety (which wasn’t hard since he died when he was 26 of an overdose of antidepressants). I used to listen to one of his final songs, “Black Eyed Dog,” on repeat, wondering if he was trying to tell everyone something, as we read some short story in school once about how black dogs are associated with death.

Then there was Jim Morrison, whose face is still plastered all over my childhood bedroom and who remained an obsession through high school into college. I liked his sad poetry books even though they weren’t really that good. I even declined to visit his gravesite on a school trip to Paris because then I’d have to share him with all the other people who had scrawled across every inch of his memorial.

It was with that predilection that I saw HBO’s luminous and crushing documentary, “Kurt Cobain: Montage of Heck.” If you watched it tonight (May 4), you may be crying. You may be bummed. You may be cursing director Brett Morgen’s name because, as you know by now, the film just ends.

Yup, after watching this man grow up from wild child baby with firecrackers strapped to his chest into a rock star holding his own baby (dazed and confused) — spoilers ahead — the doc leaves you with a few screens and a few scattered pieces of text informing you, the highly invested viewer, that Kurt Cobain is dead.

You may be crying. You may be bummed. You may be cursing. But me? Well, guys, I felt kind of ashamed. Because that’s when I — a girl who has always loved dead rock stars — realized that a person who died long ago isn’t some kind of celestial legend. He’s a guy who died long ago — and he was real. Kind of sad to come to that realization at age 30, but there you go.

These musicians who were separated from me by death — they were safe, I realized later. They couldn’t disappoint me. They couldn’t get older and put out a sh-tty folk record or write a lot of angry autobiographies or become sad, shaded parodies of themselves, rebelling against something that doesn’t need rebelling against anymore. They would always remain young — younger than me, now. They would always remain talented. They would always remain perfect. They were legends because they died young — untouchable like Jesus, or Finny from “A Separate Peace.”

“Montage of Heck” explodes that idea. It makes Kurt Cobain into a man — in part because it ends where a person’s life ends: with his death.

“When I showed the film to Frances Bean [Cobain] for the first time, we were talking afterwards and she said, ’You know what my favorite part of the movie is? The end, when it cuts to black,’” director Brett Morgen told MTV News weeks before the doc aired on Monday. “I was like, ’That was your favorite part of the movie? I don’t know if I should be offended or not.’”

For those who didn’t watch the film tonight, “Montage of Heck” does not end with a funeral. It does not end with that famous recording of Courtney Love reading Kurt’s suicide note or her interview with MTV News following his death. It ends with a black screen.

If this were a fictional film, this is where the audience would rise to their feet, shouting about wanting their price of admission back. When I saw the film in a screening room filled with rock journalists who had — hours before — been chatting loudly about their latest interviews and career coupes, this is where we all sat in the silence and the darkness and thought.

“[Frances told me] ’That’s how it is. That’s how life is. And that’s how death was. And it’s so honest,’” Morgen told MTV. “At some point, it became clear that you couldn’t wrap it up with the bow, like a stupid Hollywood ending. You know, ’Well, Kurt, he’s not here anymore, but you know he’s brought so much comfort and joy in the world!’ No. It was tragic and we needed to sort of show this.”

And they did. They needed to. Kurt Cobain is a very easy dead rock star to fall in love with. He’s an angel-faced man who, as Love says in the film, doesn’t know how attractive he is. He is, as you can see in the film, a misfit from a tumultuous home who just doesn’t fit in — you know, like the skater/stoner/loner in your high school class that you know would understand you if you ever mustered up the guts to talk to him.

To be honest, I was never a Nirvana fan as a kid. I knew all the hits from the radio, sure, and I had burned a live CD from the library and listened to “Lake of Fire” on repeat for a while (kind of similar to “Black Eyed Dog,” no?). I became a real fan pretty recently — when I saw the remaining members of Nirvana play onstage at the Rock And Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony. When I saw Michael Stipe tearfully say, “And that voice … that voice.”

Here was another dead rock star. Another perfect ghost to add to the portrait gallery of icons in my head (where I found my friends, like Kurt did in “Lithium”). He was safe. He was gone. He couldn’t disappoint me by putting out a Christian rock album or launching his own line of shoes or just, you know, putting out a mediocre record that was like “Nevermind 2.0″ without all the angst. He couldn’t grow up.

And then I saw “Montage of Heck.” I sat in the dark and I watched that Peter Pan of the Afterlife growing up strange and sad and angry and talented. I read his journals and saw his angry scrawl. I heard about how he lost his virginity to the girl everyone teased and then almost lay down on the railroad tracks. I saw him playing with his baby and his wife and his family who have to live with the fact that he’s gone — reminded constantly of his golden youth every day by the radio and the TV and fans in shirts with X’d-out eyes and smiley faces.

Then, it all ended, as Morgen said, like life does. There was no one there to tell me that it was all right. No one to tell me that Kurt would go on to be a hero even in death and lead generations of disaffected youth into the knowledge that they are not alone. Because it wasn’t all right. Cobain didn’t die to save us all. He died because — well, we don’t know why. Because it’s not really our business.

Although Morgen told me later that he never felt like he was trespassing on Kurt’s life — that Cobain kept his journals out in the open and talked for hours with journalists even though he said he hated the press — “Montage of Heck” made me feel like I was was spying. I began to fully experience Kurt Cobain as a person — a real person. And I slowly started taking down the portrait gallery of ghosts in my head.

So, this is a “thank you” letter to director Brett Morgen. This is a “thank you” for being a major bummer. This thank you for bringing me to tears. This is a “thank you” for making me feel like kind of an a–hole. This is a “thank you” for the decision to end your documentary the way you did — at the end. In doing so, you made a movie not about a dead rock star — but about a man.

Sometimes in music – as in life in general – simplicity can go a long way. Take Mandolin Orange for instance. This band is a duo whose music is rooted in bluegrass. While the melodies may be comparatively simple with only two instruments and vocals, the playing is anything but simple. Andrew Marlin and Emily Frantz show real skill on their instruments from the first notes of the new album. “Old Ties and Companions” certainly sounds like it features more than two instrumentalists. When you listen to this song, you’ll probably wish you could play anything with the same skill as these two.

Mandolin Orange specializes in making strikingly pretty songs. “Settled Down” is a particularly good example. The harmonies in this song are amazing, as is the instrumentation. The fiddle brings a sort of lonesome sound to the song. Perhaps the best way to describe this song is to say that it’s one of those songs where you want your surroundings quiet so you can focus on the song. Frankly, you can pick any song on this album and you’ll find a very pretty song. However long the two members have been making music together, they are so polished that it sounds like they’ve been making music together for a long time.

Frantz takes the lead vocals on “From Now On” and does a splendid job of it. She sounds a bit like Lucinda Williams – but not quite as rough. Her sweet voice is a great compliment to the fiddle and mandolin in this song.

This is a tremendously crafted album filled with good songs that will get you thinking and singing along. The skill of Marlin and Frantz comes through in all of the songs, but you know that the real treat would be to see this band live so you can witness just how good they are at what they do. The roots of the music are definitely in bluegrass, but you can’t call this a strictly bluegrass album. It’s a combination of bluegrass and folk. No matter how you classify it, it’s just a really good album. This is an album that you’ll want to listen to repeatedly. The thing is that if you do listen to it repeatedly, you’ll probably hear something new every time. Other bands would do well to take a lesson from Mandolin Orange about how to do more with fewer members. Such Jubilee will be available from Yep Roc Records on May 5.