David Ellison’s Paramount Skydance has a $1.88 billion problem. And now, the states are being asked to help shoulder the risk.

Paramount has asked a federal judge to require 12 states and the Writers Guild of America to post a $1.88 billion bond over potential costs associated with delays to its proposed Warner Bros. Discovery acquisition. At the same time, major movie theater companies have voiced support for the merger.

And we are apparently supposed to see all of this as good news for consumers.

That deserves a little more skepticism.

The argument from corporate America is familiar: consolidation will create stronger companies, stronger companies will create better products, and consumers will ultimately benefit.

But Hollywood has heard this argument before.

Every merger comes with promises of efficiency, innovation and greater choice. Yet when major studios, streaming platforms and entertainment companies continue consolidating, the fundamental question remains: how much competition are consumers actually left with?

Paramount and Warner Bros. Discovery aren’t neighborhood businesses combining resources. They are enormous entertainment companies with valuable film libraries, television networks, streaming platforms and some of the most recognizable intellectual property in the world.

Putting even more of those assets under one corporate umbrella changes the balance of power across the entertainment industry.

And then there is the theater industry.

Movie theater chains supporting the merger may have legitimate reasons for doing so. They may believe a larger combined studio could provide more theatrical releases or create a more stable relationship between studios and theaters.

But consumers should not confuse corporate support with consumer advocacy.

A corporation supporting a merger is going to evaluate the deal based on its own interests. That doesn’t automatically make those interests identical to the interests of moviegoers, filmmakers, writers, theater workers or audiences.

This is where the public conversation often gets backwards.

Instead of asking whether corporations like the deal, we should be asking whether the public benefits from the deal.

Will consumers have more choices or fewer?

Will streaming prices become more competitive or will fewer companies have greater leverage to raise them?

Will filmmakers have more opportunities to sell their work or fewer buyers competing for their projects?

Will theaters have more bargaining power or become increasingly dependent on a handful of massive studios?

And what happens to independent films when even more distribution power is concentrated inside fewer corporate hands?

These aren’t hypothetical concerns. They are precisely the kinds of questions antitrust regulators and the public should be asking when major entertainment companies seek to combine.

There is also something particularly troubling about the optics of asking states to post billions of dollars in security over the financial consequences of a corporate merger.

If a multibillion-dollar corporation believes its transaction is overwhelmingly beneficial, why should public institutions be pressured to assume extraordinary financial risk to protect the corporation from the consequences of regulatory delay?

That doesn’t mean the states opposing or scrutinizing the merger are automatically right.

It means they have a legitimate role in asking difficult questions.

That’s what regulators are supposed to do.

The public shouldn’t be expected to cheer every merger simply because the companies involved promise that it will make Hollywood more competitive.

Corporate consolidation doesn’t become competition simply because corporations call it competition.

And when some of the largest players in Hollywood tell us that concentrating even more power is ultimately good for us, maybe the appropriate response isn’t applause.

Maybe it’s:

Prove it.

Because this isn’t ultimately about David Ellison, Paramount or Warner Bros. Discovery.

It’s about who gets to control the future of American entertainment—and whether consumers will actually have a meaningful choice in it.

By Jonathan Marquez