In someone's theory, there's a broad hunger in the world for Pierce Brosnan's version of James Bond, a hunger that might be fed by casting the Irish actor as Peter Devereaux, hero of some 1980s spy novels by the late American writer Bill Granger. It's everyone's fact, however, that The November Man is a tuxedo stain left by a bad snack. It's overstuffed with ingredients — rogue CIA agents, human trafficking, the hero's ability to recognize Satie when he hears a few notes — all of them rendered somehow both tawdry and bland by workmanlike director Roger Donaldson (career high: No Way Out, whose Will Patton turns up thanklessly here). From predictable-flashback start to gratuitously violent finish, Brosnan looks uncomfortable. He should.